A far Better Fate
abluephoenix' blog
Quarter Life Crisis
Physiology
The day I turned 28, and the following week, I cried. Don’t get me wrong–I wasn’t upset to be turning this age, and in fact I still feel “too young” for how I want to be perceived much of the time. I’m one of those rare people who looks forward to turning 30. No… this was unbidden, uncontrolled weeping for no discernible reason, and it went on for a while with me being at the mercy of a sudden bout of tears at any second.
My fiancé told me not to worry. He said that a human being changes its physiology every 7 years, causing a bit of inner turmoil, and 4×7=28, so there we were. Explained rationally. Nothing to fear.
But I’m not 50 Yet!
Only now, half a year later, am I starting to realize the full extent of what’s going on in my head (with and without my permission). But, having become aware of the phrase “quarter life crisis, I now have such an ironic outlook on life and culture. What sort of time and place do we live in where you can’t even get through half of your life without a “crisis”? Are we such fragile creatures? Are our minds so far away from working to provide sustenance for our families that we have time to worry about what the “meaning of life” is and whether we’re “doing it right”?
It was easy enough when life was straightforward. For the first 21 or so years I was around, I had a path laid out for me. There were schoolbooks and tests and sports and summer camps. Sure I had to study and do well and learn things-but that was easy. I’m the sort of person who can excel at just about anything if I’m given a little direction and context at the beginning.
Go forth and multiply
It’s this “now go forth and earn thy living in whatever way thou seeist fit” that gets me. It’s one of my glaring flaws that I don’t know which way I seeist fit. It’s led me to “falling into” a few jobs, some aspects of which have been interesting and informative, and some of which have been miserable.
I posted recently about the amazing book, “The Anti 9 to 5 Guide” by Michelle Goodman, and I’ve been reading more of it. I’m thinking that maybe this is a path I can get behind-a direction I can follow and excel at. The scary part is that I spent 4 years and 20K on a college degree (I know… I got of light compared to some), and another 6 years blindly stabbing out at various job titles, roles, and skills.
Top floor, bottom rung of the ladder
I’ve even gotten somewhere, if you want to call it that. I make a decent wage for the area I live in. I have a respectable enough title. I certainly have enough stress to be earning both of those things. So thinking about setting out on a new path, however exciting and fulfilling that may be, is pretty humbling. How do you start at the beginning when you just got to the upper middle? Does that mean you’re throwing away everything else that you’ve done so far?
Writer for Sale
I wonder if any of the skills I’ve gained will carry over to my new career, whatever that may be. I wonder if I can put 5 years of web development project management on my resume to help land a writing gig or sell myself as a professional organizer. Likely not. Likely it will only be the life skills and experience I’ve gained that will help guide and sell, well…. ME.
A wise high school art teacher once watched me struggle with a drawing I was working on that wasn’t quite right. She saw me try to add on a little here, or erase a little there, to make it into what I was seeing in my head. She saw that this wasn’t working. She told me to erase the whole thing and start over. I looked at her, incredulous. Start over? But I had already spent so much time! Surely I could bend it to be what I wanted.
Wise Words
Her answer? You’re not happy with it now. Don’t be afraid to erase it and start fresh. It’s the only way you’ll reach your goal and have a result you’re truly proud of. It was painful… but I did it. And it worked, no less. And you know what? I didn’t miss that “so close to right” draft I had done before. And that draft didn’t get in the way by still being on the paper in front of me.
You know what the other best advice I’ve ever gotten is? This one was from my high school English teacher. He said, “Just deal with it.” Funny how that applies to just about everything hard I’ve ever run into.
3 quarters, 3 crises?
So maybe this is my time to get over my fears and my sadness and my confusion–my “crisis.” Maybe it’s time to erase that not-quite-right picture I’ve drawn for myself and stop thinking I can bend it to something that will make me happy. Maybe erasing and starting over is just the right thing for this.
I wonder if there is a ¾ life crisis out there lurking too – or whether if we make it that far we wise up enough to laugh in its face and get on with life and just deal with it.
How Much is That Nature in the Window?
Daydreaming of Natural Bliss
It’s strange to be driving along the back roads in the semi-rural cow-country of western Massachusetts, sensing the energy of the spring winds and the flowers and leaves just breaking out of their hard winter casings, daydreaming of sitting in a windswept field, hair blowing in the wind, river glistening in the distance, sun warming the air–and then realizing that this really is a dream.
I drive past so much beautiful land every day: fields and valleys and wooded areas. And yet none of it is “available.” It’s all owned by somebody or other. I can’t just pull the car over on the side of road, haul my laptop or a book out of the passenger seat, and settle myself amongst the nature. What if somebody didn’t like that? What if I was trespassing?
And sure, there are city commons and parks… but those really aren’t the same.
Glass Ceiling–I Mean Window
Did it used to be that there were parcels of land in-between the farms that just were? Could you just wander out into the forest or field and make it your own for a little while, with nobody to bother you or wonder what you were doing? These days nature is always at least a car ride away. And when you get there, you find marked trails and beaten paths and other people trying to enjoy the same little bit of greenery.
(And people wonder why I could never move to a city!)
It’s bad enough out here. It’s like window-shopping at stores displaying things you can only dream about because you can never afford to own them yourself. And I do find myself looking at nature through some sort of window most of the time. It’s so close and yet so far…
Wanted: Single, Human-Loving Plot of Land
So here I am. It’s late afternoon on an idyllic spring day–and what a lovely day it has been! After finishing up some loose ends at the office, I went to an Amherst hair salon that came highly recommended (and that I will in turn highly recommend) and got just the hair cut I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to achieve for over a year now. Then on my way home (thus the back road driving) I stopped at a little farm-owned deli and produce shop with a great view, right on 47.
I figured today was my day to do fun things, and sipping a coffee while sitting at a sunlit window counter filling a page with some words seemed like the next best thing to frolicking through those fields of waving grasses and wildflowers. There’s also something nice about being not at work and not at home — gets your head into a different space that allows creativity to flow more smoothly.
…And if I can figure out how to get my wireless flowing more smoothly, maybe I’ll look around for people renting nature by the hour like a cheap motel. I’ll let you know what I find.
Throw Away Culture
Newfangled Appliances
So I was prepping the ingredients to put into a yummy spinach quiche (my mother’s recipe), and in-between stirring the onions and checking on the bacon I was putting away the dishes from the dishwasher.
I’ve become so spoiled with this nifty piece of machinery that I did not have for the first 27 years of my life that I will attempt to put just about anything in there. Barring my gorgeous hand-made knives, the cutting boards, and the non-stick pans… yeah, I’ll try it.
Brain Ticks
But it got me thinking about wear and tear on dishes and glasses and silverware – I mean, isn’t hand-washing less harsh? Is putting things in the dishwasher once or twice a week rather like putting pantyhose in the dryer on high? Are we going to have to start replacing things because we’ve WASHED them too hard?
I stirred the onions. I chopped the cheese. I beat the eggs. I waited for the bacon. And my brain kept ticking like it’s wont to do.
‘Splosions
When my fiance and I moved into our apartment a year and a half ago, we ditched the mis-matched, chipped, ugly plates and cups we (and multitudes of ex-housemates) had accrued over the years, and purchased a nice new set of black stoneware, with black-handled silverware to match. It’s all dishwasher safe, and so far so good.
Except last week I blew up a plate in the microwave.
Not sure if it was the bacon grease, the ancient microwave malfunctioning, or the plate being a little more brittle than it should be by now. Either way, the thought ran through my head, “well, we can always get another set if a few more break.” And it’s that thought that came to mind again tonight, and made me pause.
Nothing Sacred
Sure it’s just a plate, but we can replace it. Just like we can replace every other item in our house if we want to. Just add money, throw some more stuff in a landfill, and voila!, new stuff to feel happy about owning.
Now having never been exceedingly rich or lucky, it does please me to be able to own some nice things. Some things that match. Some things that make our living space pretty and comfortable. But I’ve known people who collect things just to show them off, or who don’t take care of their things because “they can always get another one.”
Disposable… Everything
But this mentality isn’t what I want to focus on right now. It’s the thought that this “throw away” feeling applies to a lot more than just “stuff.” Lately I’ve been feeling like it applies to our culture.
I was looking at some of the books we have in our conference room at work. I work at a web development company, so we have books on programming language, usability, writing for the web, you name it. And it struck me that half of them are outdated. Some of them were outdated a year after they were published. As a burgeoning writer (so I like to think) it depresses me that something that can take years to put together can be obsolete in less than a year.
And our whole CULTURE is like that these days. What can Americans claim to create that lasts longer than a few years? Books become outdated. Technology becomes obsolete. Career change is a given (an estimated 8-12 times for those of us in my generation). What is there anymore that stays? What is there that defines us? What can we hold on to?
A Room of My Own
We’ve come so far in the past handful of years. Farther technologically speaking than we’ve come in the thousand years preceding. Just think where we’ll be tomorrow – how much will have changed so fast.
Someday I’d like to exist in a place where the landscape is natural, the work I do is concrete, tangible, and rewarding in a long-lasting way, and the community I live in has a sense of longevity and connectivity that makes it cohesive.
Until then, I’ll try not to bust too many plates in our outdated appliances.
An Exercise in Career Therapy
Of Friends & Books
My good friend, a creative entrepreneur herself, recently lent me a much-needed (though I didn’t know it at the time) book called “The Anti 9 to 5 Guide – practical career advice for women who think outside the cube,” by Michelle Goodman.
These days I have Wednesdays off from my day job, and have been making a concerted effort to use the extra eight hours in my week to DO something. It’s been tough, but the only way to get motivated is to start something (anything) and then just keep going. This morning my “something” was opening up this book to the first chapter, and reading the hell out of it.
Not only did it have some down to earth advice combined with good, honest humor, it also had some brainstorming exercises to sink my teeth into, digging a little deeper into what exactly IS that other career I’d enjoy waking up in the morning to attend. And I didn’t end up discouraged or overwhelmed like I imagined I might – no, because I got to do exercises and take notes. I’m good at taking notes. I also got to write lists. It’s funny what sorts of things turn you on…
Picking a Direction
I won’t go into detail about Michelle’s tips or exercises (though I do recommend the book already, having not even made it to chapter 2), but I will relate some interesting things I learned by doing one of them.
Part of the problem I’ve had finding “the perfect” career by the ripe old age of 28 has centered around the fact that I have not (unlike some people I have met) known exactly what I want to do since the age of seven. Rather, throughout my college years and those immediately following, I’ve been stumbling somewhat blindly between things I don’t much enjoy and things that I might be passable at after another 4 year educational sabbatical and financial money-sink.
I’ve found a good number of things I never want to do again in my life, and will NEVER enjoy. I’ve also occasionally discovered elements that ring true, and have jumped from lily pad to lily pad chasing them through different job descriptions, titles, and experiences, without much of an overall change in my career-enjoyment status quo.
The first exercise I did this morning at the prompting of this book was to sit down in a comfortable place, close my eyes, and think back – way back. I’m talking 5 years old. I was to think about anything and everything I had ever done since the beginning of memory that I had enjoyed even a little. This included everything from making up characters at the age of 6 and having make-believe conversations between them for hours to copying down and completing algebra equations on graph paper in seventh grade (yes, really…).
Career Therapy
I filled half a page, and then the other half, because I didn’t let myself stop for at least an hour. I went back and pictured myself in all of the places I lived and went to school and had fun over the past two and a half decades, focusing in on each room and each age to find what tidbits I might have forgotten. It was actually rather therapeutic.
It’s interesting when you become a grown human being (by which I mean you have a steady job, an apartment/house, a significant other, possibly some pets, and a reminder note on your monitor to call your mother sometimes), because you think you know what you’re all about. And that shouldn’t be such a huge thing compared to knowing what IT is all about – right?
But when you think back over the years in the level of detail that I did this morning, you realize that this fully formed person you are actually had its start from lots of different directions and influences, and that you may have been different people (in a sense) over the years as you grew up, because that’s what growing up is all about. It’s not so cut and dry after that.
But Will it Make Money?
It’s nice to remember all of the things you’ve done over the years. All of the things you’ve been successful at, and enjoyed, and been rewarded for (internally or externally). Even as you pass over those embarrassing moments of your existence (did I REALLY say “GI Joe underwear” in my sleep at a slumber part when EVERYONE else was still awake?), you remember how much more “well-rounded” there is to your personality.
Sometimes I think we forget this as we struggle through the immediate concerns and opinions of our day to day. I don’t know – maybe it’s just me – but this exercise gave me some perspective.
Regardless, all of this soul-searching and creative thinking and job brainstorming did actually bring up some good stuff. Sure, there’s the things I expected (writing, editing, drawing, design), and some next steps for pursuing them as a career focus. But then there’s things like, “will somebody actually pay a girl like me to help them organize their house full of STUFF they can’t emotionally deal with thinking about?”
What an interesting question…
How About Some Context
I was minding my own business. Just as I had done for the last 23 or so years of school and work life. Coasting had always gotten me good grades and promotions – I didn’t even need to worry about an alternative outlook. Pretty enough, smart enough, artistic enough, socially adept enough, I always just got through. Even the perfectionist inside of me was satisfied with the general results.
It came as quite a shock to honestly realize the sheer effort it takes to propel yourself through an endeavor really worth doing.
Sure, I had hobbies. I liked to sketch when the mood hit me, write when a poem struck, sing in the shower… I was happy too, and proud of the accomplishments I had made with such (relatively) little effort. But as my adult life burgeoned and expanded, I came across people whose motivation terrified me. My first jobs were nerve-wracking, interviews were stressful, clients kept me on edge, paying bills was difficult – but recognizing for the first time that if I had been motivated, I could have done so much more… that was scary.
I should have been inspired, but instead I started to question. Myself. My career. My experience. My value. My purpose. My meaning. Questioning is not a good habit. I don’t recommend it.
Then the economy started to landslide, and friends were losing jobs and morale. My company decided to proactively cut back on some hours as a team in order to stave off a potential future decline in client base. I was left with one day less of pay in my paycheck, and one day more of time on my hands. I remember driving home that day, and being simultaneously worried and thrilled. Here was my chance. I was being given an extra day to work on honing my talents, getting creative, doing something important – and my god it was scary!
I needed some avenues to channel into beyond the level of LJ and Warcraft. I have some raw talents that I need to grit my teeth, roll up my sleeves, and use until I get good enough at them people might be interested in taking a look. Writing is my first love, and, well… here I am.
