I never thought I would come of age, let alone on a moldy page :)

This morning, I woke up for the millionth time at 7:20. In true procrastinator fashion (a fashion that needs to go out of style... partly because I'm too busy for summer. Summer = lazy Mondays every day), I rolled out of bed to tackle something that has been egging me on for the past... oh, three months: renewing my driver's license.

I stood in line, mentally preparing myself for any repercussions and the excuse to follow. Oh, I was out of town for three weeks. Oh no, I have to take the test again? It'll be okay.... I look up from my book, noticing the difference between myself and the door, my own position in line compared to everyone who decided to sleep that extra five minutes and show up behind me. In front of me was a girl who renewed her license through the mail but has received nothing of significance to ease her mind of the fact that her license was to expire next Monday. Behind me, a man who was in to renew his own license. And there I stood in between, the same reason with the marker of procrastination to bar me from even connecting to the pillars of responsibility.

The line breezed by instantly, my question of changing my address answered, the paperwork filled out, the nerves of possibly being reprimanded buzzing through my veins. My number was called, mediocre questions and small talk ensued, and bing! Done. Except for one small request... Stand over at the camera to take your photo... A-what? I thought the photos only ensued once the picture was too young-looking to be considered even passable! Coming from the mentality of everyone at work looking years older (whereas I, short stature and older age, continue in my rut of looking years younger... a gift I'm sure I will appreciate many years down the line), I decided to accept my fate that a new picture was unavoidable, and simply clad in mascara, I smiled as the click(clickclick) of the camera rang in my ears. I walked off, called my sister and relayed the episode, her laughter easing my confidence.

Then it hit me, as being 21 has given the driver's license a new form of life outside of my wallet... that no one truly looks at the picture. The number at the top is used for identification and registration for all bills of multiple sizes. The address becomes a reminder of a home-base through the constant travels between youth and adulthood (or a change of address, in this case, becomes a reminder of where life has now been placed). The birth-date- a confirmation of one's age (the gateway to legal tasks linking with age when looks become deceiving), the expiration used as a marker for a date when the DMV has missed you and desires to learn where life has taken you. And the name, the placard of identity, used to compare cards and documents and create the link between that big picture that takes up a good third of the card to the importance of what becomes a verbal/visual identity. Ultimately, the picture is a mere glance as the printed words take precedence over every function imaginable (and besides, it rests in one's wallet a majority of the time!)...

And besides, staring at the real, breathing image is ten-times better than any picture imaginable.