That is, my twenties are. Almost. For today, my dear friends, I turned 29. That magical age where you are either wishing you had made more of a mess of your twenties, aren’t ready to let go of them, or are eager to move on. I have to say I’m not really sure where I fall on that continuum.
So much about your twenties sucks. The soul-crushing reality of being everyone’s bitch, professionally. Paying rent. Those first precious grey hairs. Being surrounded by people your age, most of whom are even more screwed up in their brain space than you are. Still feeling beholden to your parents in some way while simultaneously being completely responsible for all your own magical 20-something failures.
Unless you are a runway model (in which case, you don’t get to complain about anything you overpaid clothes hanger, and while you’re at it go eat a sandwich) chances are the best years of your career and your personal life are probably still ahead of you. But? Your twenty year old thighs are gone with the wind, and honey, there is no amount of Pilates that will ever get them back. Time’s onward lurch is cruelest to our body parts.
Some people, myself included, want to use these milestones as a good time to take some personal inventory. Time to figure out what you’ve learned, what you haven’t figured out, what you should do differently. And, oh, holy moly did my twenties deliver in those categories.
I learned that I am far meaner to myself than I would ever be to anyone else. Think about some of the things you say to yourself on a daily basis. If someone walked up to you on the street and said these things to you, you would kick them in the junk, right? So kick yourself in the junk, metaphorically preferably, and just stop it. Right there. Right now. Stop it.
Almost everyone in the universe has the potential to be a really awesome person. Some are already, some are almost there, and some have a ways to go, but someday they’ll figure it out. That being said? It is not my job to sit around and wait for everyone else to figure that out. Especially if their experimentation in this particular genre is at my expense. Repeatedly. All I can do is extricate myself as cleanly as possible, wish them on their way and hope that someday, maybe, they’ll figure it out for themselves, too. In the meantime, I need to align myself with other people who recognize this and are consciously walking the walk as well.
Some people live in their own reality. Not everyone is going to react in a rational, predictable way in any given situation. You have no idea what motivates these actions, and the last thing you can do is argue rationally with an irrational person. And if the irrational person is your boss? And likes to throw things and yell a lot? Hit the Want Ads. Hit them hard. Before your self esteem becomes collateral damage in one of their irrational fits of fury.
The goal of an argument should be that both people get to let the other know where they are coming from, what pissed them off, and what they think should be done about it. After that, the point is to actually figure it out. So you don’t have to have that argument again. Being right won’t be worth much if you’re right, but all alone.
Perspective. STFU about your first world problems. If no one is maimed or dying, then chances are it can be resolved. Most things you huff about aren’t worth the energy you devote to them. Take a break and read the news. In the face of that kind of suffering, of famine and war and violence and tragedy, you will undoubtedly be instantly humbled.
And? While you are at it? Lighten the hell up. In general. If you’re doing brain transplants or some shit then by all means, Serious The Fuck out of it, but if you aren’t? Or when you aren’t? Have some goddamned fun. Not “manic aaah I’m running from my problems how hard can I party til I stop feeling” fun. Real fun. Borrow a dog or a toddler and go roll around in the grass a little bit.
Think back to your high school days. Remember the “cool kids”? The ones who you thought would surely be the most successful and beloved people on the planet? Find em on Facebook. Chances are, they’re toiling along in a cubicle just like every one else. The coolness rarely has any real relevance in grown-up life. Rejoice that you no longer have to worry about it.
Also: don’t forget to listen to your friends. The ones who are there with you in the thick of it, and the ones who have come out of it mostly intact. Even strangers’ lives, with seemingly no relation to yours, can be the source of some of the best “a-ha” moments you’ll ever have. This is why they invented the internet, y’all. And, of course, for porn. Probably more for porn.
Also, everyone needs an “I Am Awesome” song. At least one. Something that you can turn up really loud and scream-sing to in your car when the universe has pissed in your Cheerios. Because it is going to. Again. And Again. And, oh look, again. What I find is particularly helpful is a playlist full of what I like to call “I Am Awesome and BTW You Suck” songs. Songs written by jilted lovers usually work well for this, because they often just enumerate the sucky qualities of someone else while conveying a message of “But it doesn’t really matter that you suck because my awesome is Scotch Guarded”. You can then take the lyrics and apply them to whoever is currently the target of your ire. Your boss, your mother, the jackass on the bus who always puts his bag on a seat, the friend who seems to enjoy shredding your self esteem for sport. I guarantee you any one of these characters will fit seamlessly into an “I Am Awesome” songlist.
So with that, I leave you with my current top-of-the-list-heavy-rotation “Yo Soy Awesomesauce” song. Yeah, I know Ben Folds isn’t some great new discovery and some people say he’s a boring sellout, but screw that. This is a pretty badass “Awesome/Suck” song. I mean, read the lyrics for crying out loud. “Life is wonderful, Life is Beautiful, We’re All Children of One Big Universe, so You Don’t Have to Be A Chump.” In fucking deed.
Cat Hair Tumbleweeds 