"I'm twenty-three. Remember how old twenty-three seemed when you were little? I mean, I thought people were going to be traveling in air locks and I would have five kids. But here I am — twenty-three. Things are basically the same. I think time is running out to do something bizarre. Somewhere around twenty-five, bizarre becomes immature."

Bridget Fonda says that in Singles and it still resonates with me the same as it did when I was twenty-three seeing it for the first time. But tonight, I find myself questioning it.

Is time really running out to do something bizarre and what exactly is bizarre anymore? Would it be bizarre if I shaved my head and got a tattoo sleeve? Would it be bizarre if I packed all my shit and moved to another city I've never been to just to start over again. You know what would be really bizarre? If I actually took time to formulate a retirement plan more sophisticated than, "I'll probably be dead before I retire."

I still do agree with one point. Time is running out. For what? Now, that's the question.