Filling out a form online, I was thinking, wow, I’m at the end of an age bracket—next year, I won’t be able to click the 18-24 range anymore.

And it occurred to me that recently, I haven’t been automatically bumping my age up a year. I’m a November baby, so I usually add one to my age to match my peers.

Or at least that’s the official story. Truth is, I’ve always felt a little hampered by my age in numbers. Most of my ’serious’ relationships have been with older people, and I’ve spent too many a year walking around with a chip on my shoulder the size of the years we are apart in age.

So I’ve learnt to raise it. Just that extra year. Means nothing when you’re over 30, perhaps, but makes all the difference when you’re an awkward 2o year-old trying to be 21. Just knowing that if that extra year cracked open the ice a little more to give conversation a chance, they’d like you, and you’d be elevated one step higher than just being someone’s 20 year-old.

Recently though, when someone at church asked my age in relation to my unmarried status (something more common than not, really, but I got suddenly self-conscious) I said “23″. Not the 24 I would otherwise be saying.

Yesterday, I went to test drive a car with JT. The agent, who knows JT, suddenly turns to me while I’m in the back seat and says, “Want to try?” and pauses for a thought before appending, “Wait…you got license or not?”

Instantly, I was 18 again.

Am I at that point where I’m finally happy to quote my age ‘as is’? Or am I anything but—too embarrassed to be so young while simultaneously too apologetic to be this old?

I recently got to thinking about the sins of our fathers and fathers before them, and I wonder, how much are directly passed down?

Say you grew up observing things being done a certain way, and it’s easy for all of us to agree that that typically moulds a person’s behaviour and perception. You know, the whole nurture versus nature argument.

It’s a way of saying you couldn’t have known any better, because it’s all you’ve known.

But then say you grew up, got socialised and saw plenty of examples of how what you knew as a child was wrong. And better yet, got it drilled in your head that it was undesirable.

So you think you’re made by then. But the problem is, it doesn’t seem to be. Recently, I was talking to someone, and she said that observing her mother’s snap comebacks and kneejerk temper has made her do the same. “I’ve learnt from my mother,” she said, “because I saw how she was.”

But said friend understands this isn’t quite a good thing. She understands (and dare I say resents) her mother for how she reacts. And yet she does the same, in spite.

It would appear her mother sets a negative example, something to avoid. But nurture seems to have laid some sort of foundation, and it doesn’t see the need to budge. This, in spite of her consciously reflecting upon how bad it really is.

And another friend sees her mother having shaky relationships with boyfriend after boyfriend. Unlike earlier friend, she’s vehemently vowed to avoid that example. But…she hasn’t. She’s gone through an almost identical relationship roadmap, and there’s little deviation from it, even though she’s made the conscious effort to repel the parallel with her mother.

The difference between both examples I just stated is that one has deliberately rejected her mother’s example, while the earlier seems to have ‘accepted’ her fate, almost.

The similarity is that it seems nurture (or whatever you might call it) has won out. Over and above conscious thought. Over and above all other variables.

While these aren’t mirror comparisons, because they can’t directly be measured against each other, it does dim hopes somewhat for the whole mind over matter debate. How strong can your mind be, and does it even matter?