Do you ever pay attention to those signs all over campus, advertising that today is so-and-so’s birthday? Well, if you do, you may have seen my face this past week.

On Monday, Nov. 3, I celebrated my twentieth birthday. My roommate, who is one of the coolest people I know, and my other friends posted signs around campus informing students that if they told me “Happy Birthday,” I’d have to give them a piece of candy.

My roommate then gave me a huge bucket filled with candy and instructed me to give it out to everyone I saw, so I walked around campus all day Monday carrying enough candy to feed the whole student body.

I was a little embarrassed, but it was great having my friends care enough about me to make me feel special on my birthday.

My roommate also decorated my room with balloons and, Sunday night, all of my friends threw me a little party complete with cake and presents.

My family took me out to dinner Monday, and my boyfriend took me out to dinner Sunday night, too. Everyone I knew wished me a happy birthday, and my whole day was great. (Except that I felt sick after dining out so much and eating all that candy.)

But, in spite of all of this revelry, turning 20 has made me a little melancholy. In past years I’ve been jubilant about my birthday, but this year, something was different.

I have some serious problems with being 20 years old. It’s an age — and a decade — that I’m not prepared to deal with quite yet.

First of all, 20 isn’t a particularly exciting age. When you turn 20, you don’t acquire any new privileges.

I already have the rights to drive, vote and smoke. I have most of the privileges associated with becoming an adult, except for drinking, which is just a year away.

Nothing all that interesting happens when you’re 20. I mean, nothing cool happened when I turned 19 either, but you would think that entering a new decade of your life would at least bring about some new privileges.

This “entering-a-new-decade” thing is another issue with turning 20. Suddenly, I’m no longer a teenager. This might not seem like a big deal, but it makes me sad that I can’t really call myself a child anymore. I can’t still be young and innocent.

Being two decades old means that I have to start facing life as an adult. I know that I legally became an adult when I turned 18, but I still don’t have any real “adult” responsibilities.

College is a strange buffer zone between childhood and adulthood, at least for students like me, still living in the dorms.

I’m no longer under my parents’ authority, but I don’t have the same responsibilities that come with truly living on my own.

I don’t have to cook for myself (even if food service isn’t always the best), I don’t have to clean the bathrooms, I have people looking out for me and I have a caring roommate who remembers my birthday.

I have it pretty good here. I don’t have a 9-to-5 job and I live in the same building as my closest friends. Why would I want to grow up?

I think my birthday has made me realize that soon I will have to go out in the real world and take care of myself. I’ll have to actually assume the responsibilities of adulthood, not only the privileges.

I’m not sure how I will deal with living on my own.

I know I’m going to spend all of my money at McDonald’s, because I’ll never remember to cook.

And my apartment will be even more of a pit than my dorm room is now, because my roommate won’t be around to remind me to clean.

How can I be old enough to even be thinking about living on my own? Don’t I still have some time left to be a kid?

My problem is that I still see myself as a 10-year-old girl dreaming about someday going to college. Well, here I am at college. It’s unbelievable.

If the last 10 years went that fast, how fast will the next 10 be? I’m not ready to be 30, looking back nostalgically on my college years.

Maybe this is normal — this feeling of not wanting to grow up. Maybe it will pass. Maybe someday, I’ll have no problem with my birthday, and getting older will be just fine.

Until then, keep hanging balloons for me and wishing me a happy birthday.

Pass the cake.

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Sara Ziegler is a sophomore in journalism and mass communication from Sioux Falls, South Dakota.