I like to pretend that I’m not a grown-up. That I don’s have bills to pay or thank you notes to write or dinner to make. Generally speaking, I am a master of self-delusion. But- yesterday was my birthday. And it was an important one. The kind of birthday that makes you realize that eventually even Peter Pan had to learn to turn on a stove and wipe his feet at the door. So I have landed myself in a big old pile of reckonings and wonderings and I find myself at an impasse. It seems to me that the time is ripe to make a decision. While Baz Luhrman had a lot of things right with his Sunscreen speech, I think he maybe misled us a bit on a key point.
Says Baz, “Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.”
But here’s the thing Baz, what you forgot to tell us was that even if we didn’t know what we wanted to be, we still had to find a way to be something. And some of us might even have had to come to grips with the idea that that fantastic thing we wanted to be when we were little kids just isn’t an option as grown ups. To all you folks who are 35 and still cherishing dreams of becoming an astronaut, well, we still don’t have a space program. Time to move on. The reality of life is that not all dreams get to come true. I don’t say this become I’m a jaded skeptic, I don’t even say it because I’m bitter about my own dreams. I say it because someone freaking has to. Sometimes what you want and what you’re capable of are just two different things and somehow we have to find a way to be okay with that (and no worries, we will analyze this topic ad nauseum at a later date)
But I digress. The reason I am here, and maybe the reason you are as well, is that this whole “grown up” thing is kind of a tough one to figure out. Our parents seem to have gotten the hang of it and a few of our peers have managed it, but my friends, we seem to be a bit of a lost generation. More and more of our ranks are finding themselves in Mom and Dad’s basement with a framed BA, a ratty futon, and student loan bills that show no sign of magically disappearing. Or we’re out in the real world living in crummy apartments and trying to squeeze by with enough left at the end of the week for a cocktail or two and a few hours to breathe. It’s a crappy way to live, kids.
But that’s the easy stuff to write about. Funny story, bet you thought I was another pissy pseudo grown up with a chip on her shoulder. Well, I kind of am. But the cool part is that here and there I’ve actually learned a couple things. I’ve also gotten really good at laughing at the sheer ridiculousness that is us as we navigate our way into a future that most of us are frankly not even sure we want.
So here goes nothing. Follow along if you will. I don’t promise to teach you how to do things, but I can probably give you a tip or two on how not to give yourself carbon monoxide poisoning and how to deal with a house pet with a proclivity for vomiting. It’s not the great American novel, my friends, but I think there might be a few things worth documenting.
Check back soon. Pretty sure the first stop on this journey is sustenance. How to find it, what to do with it, and how to not die of sodium overload because the only thing we graduate from college knowing how to cook is ramen,