"being a grown-up"

one of the blogs I read, the lovely Sass Attack, has a category called "being a grown-up," and it's got me to thinkin'. I am now 26 years old -- an age which when you're, say, 14 or 15, seems totally grown-up and chic and cool. you have a job, you have a paycheck, you don't need to get a ride to the mall from your mom, you can go on dates with boys who aren't in high school (think of Jennifer Garner's character in "13 going on 30"). on the other end, however, I'd imagine that when you're say, 43 or 44, you're going to look at 26-year-olds like they're children who happen to inhabit fully-grown bodies. I mean, don't you feel like you read lots of interviews with men and women who reminisce about their twenties as a wild, tumultuous time when they thought they were adults but were really full-sized children making poor decisions?

if you let society's institutions and laws decide the matter, I am definitely an adult. I pay taxes, I am entrusted with responsibilities at my job, I can vote, buy alcohol, gamble, watch R-rated movies, buy cigarettes, drive a car, rent a car, get married, or even adopt a child. or hell, I can blow that all off and buy alcohol, gamble, smoke cigarettes, hop in a car, and avoid paying taxes -- but then I'll be considered an adult if I ever get caught.

it's weird, though, because on one hand I really do consider myself an adult. I pay all of my bills on time, I do my taxes myself, I check on my credit score, I get my oil changed every 3,000 miles (well, close enough), I have renter's insurance, I work hard at my job -- well, when I'm not blogging, of course -- I try and treat other people with respect and kindness, I have an apartment that has more than just milk crates and rock-band posters and ramen noodles. but on the other hand, I feel like a total kid. I spend a lot of daydreaming about what I want to be when I grow up, I marvel at my friends who've made the decision to get married or are (gasp!) even considering children, I eat cereal for dinner if I feel like it, I go out drinking and come back to blog about Dick Cheney and halibut (naturally), and I feel stunned when I realize that my mom was already married at my age.

I wonder when it all "comes together" and you feel like a legitimate grown-up. is it the realization of how many responsibilities you have? is it when you make the incredible decision that you're ready to become responsible for the life and growth of another human being? is it having a strong sense of self? is it maturity, or the way in which you treat other people, or not thinking about your self all the time (said the girl who has a blog, which is pretty much the 2007 definition of incredible narcissism)? is it when you realize that you and only you are responsible for your actions/happiness/life, so you can either shape up and take some ownership or just float along for the rest of your life, blaming other people when things go wrong?

what do you think? what makes a grown-up? and is it weird that I only sometimes feel like one, despite the fact that all the numbers point to yes?

also, is this the face of a trustworthy, responsible, legitimate grown-up (featuring a cameo by the lovely courtney botts-now-schaefer on the eve of her bachelorette party)?

perhaps dentures and Botox are right around the corner?

I've always admired bloggers that are ridiculously open and honest about real things, i.e. topics of actual substance (as opposed to posts about The Best Retail Experience Ever, although let's face it, that was pretty f'ing great). unfortunately, this is not one of those blogs where you will get thoughtful, well-written, insanely personal commentary about topics like religion, or raising children, or world poverty, or the Inconvenient Truth of global warming... more like "hey! here's a purty picture of Austin! and guess what! I got drunk the other wknd! woot!" or "hey! I am working 24/7! isn't that exciting to read about? oh, and I traveled to yet another random place!"


it's a good thing there are only about nine of you reading (ten on a good day, maybe 15 when I blog drunk).


I will say, however, that the topic that is taking up a lot of mental space lately is my age. it's funny, because I spent some time talking to my family about it this past wknd, and none of us "feel our age." I still think I'm 22, my dad is in disbelief that he's turning 60, I think it's funny that my brother is almost 30, my mom forgets that she's in her 50s, etc. then again, there are times when I look at other 22-year-olds and think "are you kidding me?! grow the F up!" -- and it makes me wonder about the expectations we have of age. why don't I believe that I am 26? I'm pretty happy with my life (I generally feel insanely lucky and grateful, actually), so why do I recoil at the idea of being 26? it's a perfectly good age, just as good as 24 or as good I'm hoping 27 will be, so why is the idea of being 26 so hard to stomach? I don't know if it's so much the aging process as it is the pre-conceived ideas we have of what we should "be" at each age.


the topic really struck home when I was attending wedding #2 of the wknd (Nay's fabulous wedding extravaganza, complete with ice sculptures, 10-piece bands, personalized light displays, and made-to-order omelette stations at the morning-after brunch). I sat at a table with some of dearest buddies from college, my beloved sillyhoos, and as I looked around our table I had a sudden realization: I was the Token Single Chick. it wasn't even that every single person at my table had brought a date and I was flying solo, it was the fact that every single woman was wearing either a diamond ring or a diamond ring and wedding band on her left finger.


it was then that it hit me: we're getting old! I'm 26! my peers have somehow reached the point of maturity where they are ready to make Real Adult Decisions, like Getting Married or Buying a Home. next thing you know, they'll be popping out BABIES and swapping toddler-training tips while I sit at my ad job and daydream about what I want to be when I grow up! crap. apparently I didn't get the memo.


it's very bizarre, this concept of age. on one hand, women of my generation are taught that we can be anything we want to be. you want to be an astronaut? knock yourself out? you want to be a supermodel? it's your choice. want to be a chemist? here's your lab coat. but when the options are seemingly limitless, they can also be a bit daunting at best... and somewhat paralyzing at their worst.


there's no neat and pretty ending to this post, since it was mainly a motley collection of my thoughts as opposed to some neatly organized argument with thesis statement + detailed support points. in lieu of a proper ending, then, I present you with a pretty picture of me with the aforementioned Married/Engaged Mafia, and, just for kicks, the Insanely Bad-Ass Ice Sculpture:

knee-jerk reaction

depending on when I wake up in the morning, I usually try to listen to NPR as I'm getting ready for work. like most of the other people in this country, I was incredibly saddened as I listened to the coverage of the VA Tech tragedy... wondering how those students' lives have been affected... feeling sad for the families of the victims... etc. and then I heard them reveal the name of the shooter and the fact that he was a 23-year-old Korean kid, an English major from northern virginia.

and my heart sank even further.

and I can't really articulate why.

is it that he's Korean? is is the fact that they repeatedly referred to the guy as "South Korean student" even though he'd lived in the DC area since he was a kid? was it the fellow English major-ness? or the memories of mentoring younger Asian students in college and learning that Asian students have significantly higher rates of depression, mental instability, and suicide than their fellow college-age peers? maybe sadness at the fact that so many Asian kids are under intense pressure, yet lack the systems necessary to deal with it in a way that is both healthy and effective? I mean come on, to complete the stereotypes, his parents work at a dry cleaner. were they so busy working to chase the American dream that they forgot about their kid?

or maybe it was more just "shit. why did he have to be Korean? how is this going to affect his family? their community? the VA tech community? the larger Blacksburg community?" my friend Di pointed out that there is no rhyme or reason to mass murderers (in terms of ethnic profiles), yet for some strange, inexplicable reason I am bothered that the largest massacre to take place at an American university will be because of one Korean kid from NOVA.

it's a complicated set of feelings that don't really add up to one neat and clear diagnosis/takeaway. on one hand, I feel empathetic, and sad, and wonder what kind of life he led, and what would lead him to do something like this. on the other hand, I'm pissed that he sold us all out like this. that he killed this many innocent people. that he put us out there in such a horrible way. on another hand (yes, I am some kind of three-handed freak... roll with me here), I wonder if this will help bring important issues to light. if this will teach Asian parents (hell, all parents, but in this case, Asian ones in particular) to talk to their kids, to give them the love and support they need, to push them in a way that's still safe. far more educated people than I have written about the effects of raising children in a post-Columbine world. pale kids who wear black trench coats were forever villified, and parents lived in fear of raising a kid who might turn out to be a social outcast. what will the effects of this tragedy be? will the stereotype of the over-stressed Asian kid cause others to back away? I mean, geez, way to blow the "model minority" myth out of the water, you know?

I'm going to end this here for fear that this will turn into a preachy post, and who the hell am I to preach intelligently on this kind of topic? I didn't have this kind of upbringing, I don't have kids, I haven't studied psychology. there are people who are far more intelligent than I am who will be writing about this for years to come. in fact, I can only imagine the field day that the media is going to have with this one... race issues, psychology issues, child-rearing issues, gun-control issues, school safety issues, immigration issues, etc etc etc. I can only describe my knee-jerk reaction, which was "damn. did he have to be Korean?"

UPDATED TO ADD A LINK TO AN EXCELLENT WAPO ARTICLE:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/17/AR2007041701924.html?hpid=topnews

cherishing the normal

yesterday, I went to work. I had a busy-ish day filled with meetings, though I managed to steal a few moments to catch up on the news and my favorite blogs. I had a breakfast of diet coke (um... oops), some homemade pasta salad for lunch, and an afternoon snack of all-natural microwave popcorn. the day ended on a positive note when we saw some new creative concepts that were fantastic.

after work, I put on my brand-new sneakers, clipped on my ipod and went for a run along town lake. I tried not to get too jealous when I ran past the dog park ("I want a dog! oh, wait, that's a lot of work. hmm... crap. plus I know nothing about raising dogs. hmm... crap. plus my job has unpredictable hours and random trips out of town. hmm... crap"), and I tried not to stare too hard when I jogged past a cute guy. I admired how my new sneakers made it feel like I was running on clouds, and I mentally thanked my parents for the birthday $ they gave me that paid for these new sneakers (which I had desperately needed).

when I got home, I took a quick shower and then ambled next door to Doc's, a great neighborhood bar with a huge outdoor patio. I sat at a picnic table with an ice-cold greyhound (vodka grapefruit) and a huge salad and laughed at my buddy Jordan as he told hilarious stories about his horrible new job. then I went home, watched some old Sex and the City episodes on DVD, and went to bed.

with advance apologies for the uber-cheesiness of the following statement, it's days like this that make me realize how fortunate I am. ordinarily I would have tried to write a funny blog post about how boring my day was, how you'd never think this was from a girl who considers herself reasonably adventurous and will climb wet rocks to go waterfall-jumping in Costa Rica or go spelunking with human skeletons in Belize. day of meetings? yawn. you spent your birthday money on new sneakers? dude, what about some Manolo Blahniks? and great new creative concepts? you ad geek.

but sometimes? I think about all the people who would kill to have this level of normalcy in their daily lives -- just one day in which you don't have to worry about some international hunger crisis, or deal with hate crimes, or wonder whether your family is safe, or hope your health would improve to the point where you could go for a jog, or be afraid that your cancer will spread -- and I realize that you know what? sometimes a boringly normal day is just what the doctor ordered.

(okay I'm SOOOO done with the cheeeeeese. sorry people. I'll try and write something super-cycnical next time. how about chronicles of my dating life? heh. that'll be good and cynical. but also way too personal for blog material, so maybe not. hmm. well I'll come up with something.)

to grad or not to grad, that is the question

perhaps it's the recent celebration of my 26th birthday or the realization that an entire year has already passed since i moved out to yee-haw tejas, but all i can think about lately is what i want to do next. it's not that i'm unhappy here, or that i'm desperate to get back to DC... in fact, i'm quite happy that i made the decision to move here. i truly believe that striking out on your own to a city that's completely out of your comfort zone (i think new job, no friends, and the fact that it's freaking TEXAS counts as "out of my comfort zone," don't you?) forces you to evaluate who you are, what's important to you, what you want to accomplish, etc etc etc... and i am confident (or at least hopeful) that i will look back on my time in austin and be grateful that i took some time to just hang out with myself.

(man, could i sound any more like a self-absorbed 20-something? yowza. cue emo music, please... or maybe some john mayer "quarter life crisis," although i have seriously lost some respect for him given the rumors that he is shacking up with jessica simpson. dude! i know you're not that hot, but seriously, at least you can credibly say you're a legitimate musician. that alone should net you some higher quality than jessica simpson, aka boobalicious reality star / no-talent ass clown)

the reality is that i never came to austin to stay, and although there are a million reasons why i really like it here and have been content to hang out for a bit (reference the million posts on breakfast tacos, runs on town lake, and the general chill but friendly / artistic and smart vibe of this town)... i'm already curious as to what's next. where will i go? who will Jen Mess With next?

it's tricky, because i feel like at this point i've somewhat-sort-of established myself in my industry... i've got five solid years' experience, and i could easily continue down the advertising pathway, stay here for a while, maybe check out another agency, build my client experience, climb the corporate ladder, etc etc etc. i'm no longer 22, paying my dues and trying to prove myself. sure, there's the proving-of-self that always comes along with a new gig, and i'm not necessarily one to sit on my laurels and get too comfortable... but at this point i am lucky enough to enjoy a decent salary (nothing exorbitant but i can make ends meet), a good job at a respected shop, interesting clients, challenging projects and fun business trips (a cruise? trips to Munich? no one's complaining here).

on the other hand, i can't help but wonder if there isn't more out there. could i be more? could i do more? could i contribute more, learn more, gain more? when my mind starts wandering like this, i immediately gravitate toward the possibility of going to grad school. it would be great! i could be a student again and bask in my nerdy student-ness! wear a backpack and take tons of notes! soak up the wisdom of others, live a life of the mind, get out of the corporate world for a bit, possibly re-direct my career path.

then i get all ooky about it. well... shit. grad school's expensive. plus, when i get out, what would do i with that degree? would i just go right back into the corporate world and work for the man? if that's the end result, i'll progress a lot faster if i just stay in advertising and climb the ladder. what if i go to b-school and it's filled with a bunch of douche-bags who overuse the term "net net" or "let's not re-invent the wheel?" (full disclosure: i have totally used both of those terms. but at least i was properly mortfied afterwards.) i always pictured myself going to grad school for something completely random and unnecessary, like french film of the 18th century. but who the F am i kidding? what the hell would i do with that? go to cocktail parties and be one of those super-academics that knows a shit ton about some obscure topic that no one cares about except for me and my professional circle of maybe 20-30 colleagues?

this post will have no neat and pretty conclusion because i have no idea what that neat and pretty conclusion will look like. perhaps the down side of this "move to a new city and do lots of soul-searching" plan is that you end up spending too much inside your own damn head and therefore end up over-thinking everything. maybe i should just jump in and go for it and see where i come out on the other side; that plan has definitely worked for me before.

whatever happens, though, i'll be sure to keep you loyal nine readers posted. (i think my loyal readership is growing, y'all. i had about three. then maybe five. and now a whole nine! woooot.)