I am no stranger to the stereotype I am subjected to as a young woman, especially a woman involved in Greek life, in college. There is nothing wrong with how anyone chooses to spend their own time, however, it may be. Personally, though, I'm not the biggest person on the party scene. It's not that I don't enjoy a good time as much as the next person, I enjoy going out with friends and having a few laughs, but sometimes I'm just as happy, if not happier, lying on the couch with a movie or making dinner, then going to bed with a book. I'm the "grandma" of my friend group. I'm the one that is in bed while my friends are out at 2 am, sending me videos of the crazy party they're at. And while the party does look like a great time, I snuggle down further in my bed and shut off the light.

I'm in the process of doing my hair before class, and my roommate comes in and just smiles at me. "It's a Frank morning, huh?" My go-to playlist includes Dean Martin, Glenn Miller, Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday, Edith Piaf, and many others. This isn't to say I can't jam out in the car with my girlfriends, Selena Gomez blaring through the stereo, but I feel most like myself listening to the crooners of the past. My whole life, one sentence my family has said to describe me is that I was born in the wrong generation. I love to swing dance, I love old fashion, and frankly, if I could dress the way I wanted, I would get looked at like I'm crazy.

I sing with a jazz band. We had a show a week ago, and I closed the night with "At Last" by Etta James. As I was coming off stage, a woman came up to me, grabbed both of my hands, looked in my face, and said, "You are an old soul." We chatted for a bit, and I said goodnight. But her words reverberated through me that night, and stayed in motion in my mind as if someone had thrown a dime store bouncy ball in an empty room.

It makes sense why sometimes I feel so out of place. Why sometimes my thoughts and opinions seem so foreign to people my own age. In theory, I feel so much older than my body actually is. I can sit in an old diner and have coffee and just casually talk with the 65-70-year-old men. I enjoy a slower pace of life, and often wonder if maybe I wasn't cut out for such a high-speed life. When I'm taking a walk through a field, swinging on the front porch, or matching Rosemary Clooney note for note, I wonder if I'm really an 80-year-old soul in a 19-year-old body. I can't always make sense of it, and it's hard to describe to some of my friends. Not everyone understands why I don't want to go out that night, or why I'm going to make dinner, read a book, and go to bed. I'm just... Different. I feel like I would have fit in much better 75 years ago. I could have been more of myself.

I never want anyone to think that just because I don't party as hard as other girls my age that I think I'm better than anyone. I just feel as if sometimes people see I'm different, and choose to dislike me for my taste in music, my love of classic red lipstick, and the fact that I think pantyhose is important. (Like I said, I'm classified as the "grandma" of my friend group.) I don't want to be judged for being different than the millennial generation I was born in to; it's not my fault that I don't fit in in this life. I don't know where I'm going in the future, and I don't know how my old soul will fit in, but maybe someday she'll find a home. Maybe it will be another old soul to be a companion to, or a house, or even a place. But for right now, my old soul will continue spending Sunday mornings in bed with croissants and Audrey Hepburn movies, and being content with her uniqueness. Oh, and swing dancing to Benny Goodman.