Turn up the Enya and hide the razor blades

Why is that everyone born after July 28, 1983 (that being a monumental day in history as the world welcomed the enigma whom you have grown to know and love...me!) insists that I cherish my 20's, as they are the best of days that I will look upon fondly as I grow older (and no doubt) less charming. I almost feel guilty for resenting this period of my life. A period that has brought a lot of discouragement and confusion. Sometimes I wish I could fastforward a decade or two and figure out what I am suppose to be doing because for the life of me, I don't have a clue at the moment. Most people think fondly of their 20's when the monotony of daily life becomes irksome. Some miss the anticipation of what drunken debauchery the weekend may bring. Some miss not having a spouse, children, in-laws, or boss to answer to. Some may miss the thrill of what's to come. Youthful optimism of what path your life may take, unencumbered by the fear of failure, driven by puerile certainty that you will succeed. To those whom affectionately reminisce upon their 20's, wishing for a moment they could recapture that bold excitement, allow me remind you of what your 20's were really about. A period when your life comes to numerous crossroads and your crutch (college, friends, financial support from mom and dad) no longer cradles your juvenile impulses. Decisions need to be made and responsibility beckons you from every corner no matter how hard you resist.

Throughout high school and college, everything lacks urgency. There's always more time to make important decisions. I'll figure out my passion later. I won't worry about my debt(s) until I'm done with school. Of course my friends will always be around to entertain me. Mom and dad will keep paying my health insurance and giving me beer money. Then one day you wake up and realize that you can no longer rely on your friends to split the rent 5 ways, eat from the cafeteria on your meal plan or expect mom to keep doing your laundry. The 4 years you spent partying studying landed you with a piece of paper that proclaims your expertise in some chosen field. For me, I apparently am an economics guru. I remember walking across the stage on graduation day, reaching out my hand for the coveted slip manifesting my genius, and feeling like a complete fraud. What did I know about economics? Sure I sat through a few classes, passed a few exams and read a few books, but to think I was at all prepared to take on a job requiring these skills was absurd. I only chose econ in the first place because it sounded smart and was about the only subject that didn't bore me to death. Not exactly what fuels ones future passion when entering the workforce.

At this point, most 20-something year olds get a job that either pays the bills or has potential of becoming their desired career. No one lands their dream job right out of the gate. Now you may wake up at 40 and realize you're still in your post-college entry level position but you didn't consciously decide that was going to be it. Somewhere along the way you may have missed an opportunity, life may have thrown you a few curve balls and you may feel like a failure, but you made your bed so deal with it. Throughout college (the ambitious types) dream of what exciting and profound career they may one day profess on their business card. Supreme Court Justice? Can't wait! Nation's leading heart surgeon? Where do I sign! Titan of industry? Yes please! Of course, no one actually achieves these coveted positions at 21, but isn't it fun to think of all that potential your professors and parents have been feeding your ego all these years? No one tells you how morally crushing it is to be rejected by a small firm that has typos in its Jobs.com ads and polyester clad HR drones. No one clarifies that your "earning potential" is just that, potential. You may have the fortune of making that bank decades down the line but don't think you're getting that great health plan and bonus package with zero experience. No one rewards you for your efforts with concrete affirmation of grades, diplomas or smiley face stickers. Sure a paycheck may be considered a reward for your attempts at being productive, but when you see the paltry amount that barely covers the gas it takes to get to work, it feels more like a cruel joke.

So while you're feeling particularly nostalgic about your 20's, remember how disappointing, stressful and degrading it was to realize you're not as "special" as your parents and professors built you up to be. Think back on that first despondent memory of rejection. Whether it's an internal defense mechanism (I haven't run the diagnostics on this theory yet and I only minored in psychology) or the capacity to remember stressful times dissipates with the aging brain, people tend to remember only the carefree carousing of their 20's. Somehow they seem to have forgotten that epiphany whereby one realizes they're most likely NOT going to reach that elusive "potential." Coming from the generation of entitlement, this is a particularly difficult reality to grasp because most of us are not equipped with the necessary skills to cope with our own shortcomings.

In your 20's it's hard to imagine the people you once played beer pong with while taking breaks to do keg stands will one day run off and get married and produce offspring. That girl who spent every Friday night clutching the toilet, mascara running down her face, drunkenly sobbing over another rejection will actually dupe find some dude to marry her. When you hit your mid-20's most of these friends will inevitably be engaged or married, while you sit and blog, waiting for your chance. Friendships change as lifestyles change. If you're single, your newly married cohorts tend to associate with other newlyweds and begin looking at you with pity or disdain. It's even worse if said cohorts begin procreating. What could you possibly have in common then? My single species is dwindling. Every week it seems as if another friend gets engaged or finds a little demon seed in her belly. I can no longer muster my false enthusiasm for such news. I'm actually beginning to resent most of these people. Not necessarily because I'm bitter or jealous, but because I truly enjoy scrutinizing other's relationships and finding the flaws for them. You're welcome. Not callous enough to point them out, I silently reassure myself that by the time they realize the hasty decisions they've made and plan their matrimonial escape, I'll be well on my way to wedded bliss. Ha!

However, those of you who've made it through your 20's with a little grace and sanity, and do find yourselves married (happily or not) be thankful you fit the norm. It's not so great on the other side. When your love life is floundering, it's difficult to be constantly surrounded by a bunch of newlyweds. They're like a plague of locusts sweeping over your self-confidence, leaving very little behind. Making more of a spectacle attempting NOT to speak about their upcoming nuptials around those who have none to speak of. Especially around the girl who called off her own wedding. I'm either the basketcase who couldn't make it down the aisle, or the spoiled brat who didn't see the value of making it down the aisle. So, be thankful if you're in this elite group of couples and stop bitching about missing the good ol' bachelor days. Sure it's fun to have the freedom to look, but not so fun if no one is looking back.

Still miss your 20's? Miss all the insecurity and doubts? Miss feeling like the outcast or that you're falling behind? Miss the eagerness of what may lie ahead only to discover it's pretty bleak? The only period of my life I've look fondly upon, were the days I was free to poop my pants. I guess by that token, I'm really looking forward to my 90's.