Being 24 rocks.

First of all, I love the numerical elegance of the actual number. 24 is not an awkward prime number like 23, nor is it a boring milestone like 25. It's divisible by 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, 24. If you're into Chinese astrology, 24 is the year of your power animal, the year that comes every twelve years when you are in your element and you just PWN the world.

Secondly, 24 is just young enough and just old enough. I'm no longer a college test-tube baby, and I'm still idealistic enough to not be completely crushed by the weary reality of the world. Older and wiser people, thank you for not snickering in my face.

Maybe it's all the positive and spiritual energy that comes from living with my roommate, who has already lived so many lives. Maybe it's all the butter from the buttery pumpkin ravioli I ate last night that's making its final euphoric death rounds in my arteries before I fall to the floor from a cardiovascular shutdown.

I'm feeling good.