I am turning 25 next week. According to science, people reach full maturity at this age. By this definition then, most of my friends are supposedly mature or as I always say, grownups.
"I am surrounded by grownups!”
"Wow, you are such a grownup”
These gleeful remarks (okay, maybe a shriek) always get responses such as,
“no, I am not a grownup”
“what does that even mean?!"
I always say it does not mean old.
Maybe instead of saying grownup, I should just say growing up or something that alludes to an unending understanding of what it means.
But anyway, while there is no one definition, as of this writing, growing up for me, means that you give room for what you do not know yet and question what you already do. I used to hate alcohol. I blame it for so many things. Many nights, Mama would have to pick up my Titos — a car accident, a shattered glass, dozing off in front of the US Embassy. Yes, the US Embassy. And of course, Papa died 12 years ago due to heart failure primarily caused by drinking. You get it right? So, I swore it off, and I judged everyone who does it but as with all things, that changed as I experienced the world for myself. Heck, I am working for a wine (importer) company now.
This photo essay is about growing up and how I am trying to have a better understanding of the world. This is a celebration of everything that I’ve come to know which I am sure I have to unlearn at some point but for now, this is what is.
(Literal) Artist's Notes