Quarter of a Century Without a Quarter of a Clue

The age of 25 seems objectively boring and unimportant as I approach the final weeks before I become it. You are not in your "early twenties" anymore, so there are some societal constructs that come into play.

When I started working at Swash as an intern, I was 20 years old. I was also not-so-bright. I will probably say similar things about "now me" in five years. That is a phenomenon that I am just barely coming to grips with – the me of yore is a real dummy.

I've bounced in and out of Denton a few times in my life. This is my third attempt. I think each time it gets better. The living situation is better, my social circle is stronger, there are more "cool things" happening in town, I am better at my job, and I have learned more about adulthood.

My new spot on moving-back day, a 1930s one-bedroom cottage built as housing quarters for TWU professors.

There is an unspoken but potent stigma attached to "moving back" after leaving town for a bigger city. It's viewed as failure. A regression. But I think that my actual regression was leaving in the first place. It was brash to sacrifice comfort for glitz.

Hindsight's a b-word.

So here's to 2016, a year that will see me turn 25 right here in Denton, a place that feels like home. Although it's an outwardly underwhelming milestone, it feels special to me right now.

Andi Harman