Archive for the '28 Years Old' Category

Twenty-Eight Year Old – Yossarian

Catch22

 

They were the most depressing group of people Yossarian had ever been with. They were always in high spirits. They laughed at everything. They called him “Yo-Yo” jocularly and came in tipsy late at night and woke him with their clumsy, bumping, giggling efforts to be quiet, them bombarded him with asinine shouts of hilarious good-fellowship when he sat up cursing to complain. He wanted to massacre them each time they did. They reminded him of Donald Duck’s nephews. They were afraid of Yossarian and persecuted him incessantly with nagging generosity and with their exasperating insistence on doing small favours for him. They were reckless, puerile, congenial, naïve, presumptuous, deferential and rambunctious. They were dumb. They had no complaints. They admired Colonel Cathcart and they found Colonel Korn witty. They were afraid of Yossarian, but they were not in the least bit afraid of Colonel Cathcart’s seventy missions. They were four clean-cut kids who were having lots of fun, and they were driving Yossarian nuts. He could not make them understand that he was a crotchety old fogey of twenty-eight, that he belonged to another generation, another era, another world, that having a good time bored him and was not worth the effort, and they bored him, too. He could not make them shut up; they were worse than women. They had not brains enough to be introverted and depressed.

Joseph Heller, Catch 22

Published in: 28 Years Old | on April 22nd, 2010 | 3 Comments »

Twenty-Eight Year Old – Edna Pontellier

 

 

Edna Pontellier could not have told why, wishing to go to the beach with Robert, she should in the first place have declined, and in the second place have followed in obedience to one of the two contradictory impulses which impelled her.

A certain light was beginning to dawn dimly within her,—the light which, showing the way, forbids it.

At that early period it served but to bewilder her. It moved her to dreams, to thoughtfulness, to the shadowy anguish which had overcome her the midnight when she had abandoned herself to tears.

In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her. This may seem like a ponderous weight of wisdom to descend upon the soul of a young woman of twenty-eight—perhaps more wisdom than the Holy Ghost is usually pleased to vouchsafe to any woman.

But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge from such beginning! How many souls perish in its tumult!

 

Kate Chopin, The Awakening

Published in: 28 Years Old | on April 22nd, 2010 | No Comments »