There's just something about turning 20. Technically, it's no different from 19, which wasn't much different from 18.

You've voted, gone to R-rated movies without having to sneak in, passed a driver's test and assumed all of the responsibilities and privileges that come with graduation from minorhood. But you can't drink (legally) or rent cars from Avis.

Yet, "20-something" implies a vastly different role from that of "teenager." The image of a teenager is usually that of a somewhat rebellious high-school youth still ultimately under the control of his parents. In contrast, a 20-something-year-old invokes visions of an independent young adult entering the working world.

Turning 20 brings with it new expectations and demands, and admitting that I've reached this point is a scary thought. I feel a mid-life crisis pending; I should have accomplished and be able to perform all the things I imagine a 20-year-old is capable of performing. I have moved beyond the teenage years but am not yet ready to classify myself with the 20-year-olds. I have too much to learn and experience first.

College poses this odd, transitory period in which you are allowed to sample the independent life while not yet assuming the full responsibilities of an adult. You do your own laundry, but you don't cook your meals. You manage your bank accounts, but you don't pay the electricity bills. You fit in no other pre-defined age group, and constitute your own class, the college years. This time is a unique opportunity to retain that which was best of our high school days and that which will be best of our postgraduation days.

And that's how I'll cope with turning 20. I can pick and choose what to retain from my teenage days and discard that which feels childish. I can assume the roles of a 20-something-year old for which I feel ready, and delay those in which I don't. With this in mind, celebrating my birthday isn't such a big deal...at least not until next year.