So when I was younger, I always had this age in mind where I assumed adults had shit together…because they were “adults.” 30. When someone is 30, they have it all sussed out. They are GROWN. Well, younger self, you were a fucking idiot. I’m turning 30 next year and genuinely I haven’t a damn clue on how to function a solid 45% of the time. Maybe miraculously in the next year and month, everything will come together. I shall see the light. I shall be healed. But between you and me, I don’t see that happening. I spend a lot of time with bonafide “adults” according to the young-me scale. Let me tell you, a 60 year old has little to no better idea what in the actual fuck is going on than I do half the time…and that’s sort of alarming because they’re a DOUBLE adult. Things still scare them. They don’t feel like they’re acting their age, because in their minds, they’re still 20 or some shit. If you ask any certified adult, they’re probably going to tell you something similar. “Oh, yeah i’m 65 but I still feel 18.” SHUT UP, SUSAN. No. That’s not what I want to hear. You know why? Because that means we’re all in this uncertainty ship for the long haul. Will anyone ever figure it out? Are we all doomed to be like Bill Murray in Caddyshack where the Dalai Lama will grant us total consciousness on our death beds? DO WE HAVE TO WAIT FOR DEATH BEDS? Maybe there is power in embracing the uncertainty. That’s a thing people do, right? Sorry, I just got distracted writing this because I caught my reflection in my laptop screen and genuinely thought it was some kind of halloween decoration or something. I guess that is growing up.
I used to kind of rely on my youth as the crutch I needed to put off figuring everything out. “I’m 22. I’m young. I can wait.” Being frivolous wasn’t a big deal. It’s youth, baby! You can do whatever you want and write it off due to your age. Well, in the eternal words of Michael Scott on The Office, “my my how the turn tables.” I’m 28 now, almost 29. The bliss of youthful indifference and inactivity is gone. If someone asks you what you want to do with your life when you’re 22 and you say you don’t know, they usually will say something comforting along the lines of “you have plenty of time to figure it out! I didn’t know what I wanted to do either!” But when you’re 28, people don’t even ask what you WANT to do. They ask what you DO, as in it’s already happening. And when you reply back with some utter bullshit about being “in between” careers or “moving towards” something else, lemme tell you from experience that you don’t get the “you have plenty of time to figure it out” card. You get a alarmed look flash over their faces and then an “oh, that’s interesting” or, perhaps worse, the dreaded monotone “oh, wow.”
It’s a total privilege that I’m even able to have this conversation right now. I realize what an utter crock of shit it is that I’m even able to be 28 and “figuring it out.” A lot/most people don’t have that luxury of not figuring it out. It’s a life or death thing to figure it out. Survival. So I acknowledge that it’s really not a good look to not have it together on an adult level at age 28, almost 29. So as I seemingly rapidly approach my “Dirty 30,” I’m going to try to better myself. I want to enter my third decade on this planet with health, wealth, and happiness. I’m saying that here because if I actually put it out there then I’m accountable. If it’s published on the internet, then it has to be real, right? You can’t just put fake stuff online. So, here’s to figuring it out.