I am turning 25 in two weeks. For those of you who are older than 25, this is probably not a big deal to you. I am hoping though that you’ll remember what it was like to be 24 and 50 weeks and gel with me.
I remember being 10 and trying to imagine what it would be like to 25; somehow I thought I would be better looking and richer. I think that’s because every 25 year old I “knew” was on 90210. And now that I think about it, they were probably younger.
I’ve been reading about the quarter-life crisis, which seems to be a problem largely affecting white, middle-class youngsters. . . I hate it when people are right about me.
Interestingly, this anxiety 20-somethings feel is said to be a result of having too much youth, ability/opportunity and independence. Doesn’t sound that terrible on paper, but that adundance can be awful if you find yourself in a position with no clear direction. It’s the problem of too many options and the hesitency of picking (and sticking with) one.
I rejoice for the good things in my life. But I acknowledge that there are plenty of situations, instituations and people that have left my age group disillusioned. And I have been sucked in.
Happy Birthday to me.
For my celebration, I’m thinking of returning to a lighter time, a time when the only expecations on me were to tidy my room and use manners: I think I’ll go bowling this year.