Perspective: Twenty-Six

Twenty-six.
I've liked the number ever since I watched a certain remake featuring a wicked almost-stepmother who, when asked how old she was, smiled beatifically and said crisply, "Twenty-six."
Yes, she turned out to be Cruella in disguise, and thank God the father went back to the real mother, yada yada yada, but it's been on my list of so-called 'lucky numbers' ever since.
Now that I'm here, I have mixed feelings.
Many of my friends are engaged, married, starting a family, or even adding to a family that might already be too big for the two-bedroom apartment they live in.  With very few exceptions, the friends that are my age have graduated college; some of them have gone even further to masters and law degrees.  They have everything right where they want it; they know what they are doing, they like what they are doing, and they are not alone in whatever they are doing.
Yet I have to think, are they happy?
Would achieving all they have make me happy?
What am I doing, at twenty-six and in my senior year of college, that makes my life better or worse than theirs?
My therapist keeps harping on perspective lately.
(I shouldn't say 'harping,' that's a little harsh, but it's a constant debate between us.)
Perspective No. 1: I may be single, and sometimes I feel alone.  But I do not have the capacity to focus on my schooling and another person at the same time.  I'm better off alone at this time because if I wasn't, I would either be distracted from my studies (which isn't a hard state to be in, regardless), or I would be neglecting that other person, and I can't bear the thought of being so cruel.  So alone is good.  For now.
Perspective No. 2: I am a horrible person.  I am selfish and lazy and I have the messiest room ever (unless you're looking at my roommate's, then she wins, hands down), and I lose things that are literally right in front of me.  I have very little drive and I am only so reliable as my sleep patterns (read: not at all).  As such, I am in no position to be having a child, raising a child, being responsible for a child.  Despite my age, I am a child, and I need to grow up if I don't want to screw up another life as badly as mine has been.  So why should I let my barren state hurt when giving life to another soul would hurt so much more right now?
Perspective No. 3: I was not ready for school when I was eighteen and graduated.  Yes, I tried a little after a single semester break, but as stated previously, I have very little drive now, and had even less at eighteen.  I was not equipped to go to school then.  I wanted to be everything and see everything and I probably would have ended up majoring in something ridiculous like philosophy and Baroque art with a minor in ancient Greek --because that's obviously a useful degree, right?  I would have probably stayed in Minnesota, and though yeah, they say 'Minnesota Nice' and all, Montana is WAY nicer (if the drivers are a little stupid, so what?), and I have been given the opportunity to study under some really fantastic professors.  And though I have gotten flack for finally settling on music in my studies, I know now that it is something I am passionate about that I could actually make something of myself with it, and I could be happy doing it.  So I'm a little behind the rest of my age group.  So what?  I'll get the other degrees in my own good time.  I'm where I need to be right now.
So I'm twenty-six today.  And I have great friends that have spent time with me.  I got a pair of earrings that is absolutely adorable.  I only got a few weird looks for wearing a tiara (because they've probably come to expect that from me anyway).  I made cupcakes for the first time today, and if the first batch looked a little weird, they tasted delicious.  I have purple in my hair, just because.  And I get to sing second soprano on one of the songs in chamber rather than alto.
It is what it is, and right now, it's good.
Perspective.