Reflections on Being a Quintessential Twenty-Something

I stumbled across an article a few weeks ago that I knew I must read – and comment on – but until now hadn't found the time to do so.

The article, entitled Semi-Charmed Life, was published in the New Yorker by Nathan Heller.  Take the time to read it if you have a chance.*  It's amazing.

Ok, you back (or still here)?  Good.

The article looks at twenty-something-ness as a unique phase in everyone’s lives.  It talks about how this phase in our life is special because it is so varied – all of us are doing so many different things, someone of us are doing it all at once, and somehow that draws us together.  Parts of the article stuck out to me as hitting a proverbial nail on the head.

As I draw much closer to the end of my 20s than the beginning, I've spent a lot of time thinking about where I’ve come from and where I’ll be in a few years. 

• I entered my 20s a college student – over worked, over tired, over partied, over committed, overly single, and probably with a checking account nearly over drawn. 
• My early-mid 20s were spent slaving away at a job I hated in order to pay the bills. 
• I quit said job in my still early-mid-20s to go back to being overly broke and started grad school – I was again a full time student, working two full time jobs, and in a truly terrible relationship.
• I spent most of my mid-20s focusing on my career.  My checking account was still over drawn half the time but I was working my ass off at something I loved and - too be honest - having way to good of a time.
• With the recent move (and the entry into the definite late-20s of my life), I’ve refocused a little.  I’m still working hard, doing something I love, but I’m also focusing on my relationships more, building up that bank account, and losing the weight that comes along with having a good time.

It’s hard to think that all of that can happen in less than 7 years.  Harder yet to believe that all of my best friends could describe very different paths in their 20s and yet all of our experiences resonate with one another – we are all drawn together even if nothing about our lives appears to meld well.

At one point, Heller says that one of the most interesting part of everyone’s 20s is that “Where you start out—rich or poor, rustic or urbane—won’t determine where you end up, perhaps, but it will determine how you get there.”  This could not be more true. 

The article also mentions a clinical psychologist who observes that – contrary to the carefree attitude that people see in 20-somethings – as a whole we are horribly unsatisfied.  We feel that our lives are not what we hoped for.  I think my meandering path above demonstrates that I have felt the same way.  There are defining moments in that story – literal “wake up in the morning and realize something has to change” moments – where I was so unsatisfied that I was willing to give everything up to make a change.  And I did.  Multiple times.

So where am I going with all of this?  That is the ultimate question, isn’t it?  I may have almost 2 years left to my 20s but I’m already feeling the pressure to figure it out.  Thankfully, these days, the 30s are the new 20s so I have a few years to get there.  The article even addresses that fact.  In the 90s, the "it-girls" on TV were like Ally McBeal - late 20-something, desperate, single women.  Today, the "freak out timeline" focuses more on the Liz Lemon's of the world - late 30s.  As the article states: "There’s no shame now in being a twentysomething without imminent family plans, and there may even be extra power."

Near the end of the article, Heller makes this observation.

Twentysomething culture is intimate and exclusive on the one hand, and eternal on the other. We tout this stage of life, in retrospect, as free, although we ogle the far shores of adulthood while we’re there.

When I read those sentences, it suddenly all made sense to me.  Why this stage in my life is so special.  Why I feel the need to write about it on the blog that so few people read.  Why I strive to improve with each new step I take.

We live in a world where almost everything about it is readily available to virtual strangers.  At the same time,  we know more than ever about how to shape that intimacy.  That's what this blog is all about, isn't it?  Putting my thoughts out into the world in a way that truly expresses what is on my heart.  I am able to express myself - no one can take that away.  

I have the freedom every day to do what I want still.  I have no husband, no children, at home to answer to.  And yet, as I near the end of the 20s, I've come to realize that that "far shore of adulthood" isn't so far away afterall.  That maybe it's ok to be anchored down a little.

*Did you miss the post on my Facebook page with the link last week?  Make sure you like the page so you don't miss anything in the future!

Lovers of Words

One of the things I have loved about working at a university - and one of the things I will miss the most - is the opportunity to participate in a community of scholars, even though I am (not yet) a professor.  

I've shared reviews of books that I read in conjunction with a university project a few times in the past and I want to share one more before I leave here.

The incoming class at this university was required to read a few common texts.  Being a book / language nerd and a lover of fictionalized history (note: that, in my mind, is very different than historical fiction), I was very excited to get my hands on one of the texts for the year, The Professor and the Madman, a book discussing the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary.  I mean really, is there a more perfect book out there for someone like me to read?!

I read this book in a matter of hours.  I found it full of interesting historical anecdotes, rich in the history of language, and - simply put - a really good story.  The book focuses on two men who are unparalleled in their contribution to the English language: Professor James Murray, who oversaw the committee collecting entries for the OED, and Dr. W. C. Minor, a previously unknown man who contributed tens of thousands of entries in the collection process.  This remarkable tale focuses on the relationship between the two men, as well as their lives aside from the OED, especially after it comes to light that Dr. Minor is serving time in an asylum for  the criminally insane after murdering a man due to his constant paranoia. 

This book is one of those stories that is so outlandish that it's must be true.  The history surrounding the most ambitious language project our world has ever seen is sensational enough and the task was nearly impossible.  But the lives of those who contributed to the process are even more amazing.  Simon Winchester did a wonderful job of sharing their stories and drawing the reader into their task.  For anyone who is a lover of words the way I am, The Professor and the Madman is a must read.

Unknown Yet Immortal

Anyone who has taken a science course that talked about cell research has probably heard of HeLa.

Most of those people have never heard of Henrietta Lacks.

I read The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks as part of a commitment for work over a year ago and I have not stopped thinking of it since.  This book is mind-boggling to me.

It's the story of a woman who changed modern-day science in immeasurable ways, yet who is virtually unknown....  The story of people who weren't given all of the information... The story of multiple generations of a family who cannot afford healthcare - yet whose ancestor was the root of many of today's medical treatments.

Henrietta could not possibly have known that pieces of a cervical tumor - a tumor that ultimately killed her - were removed from her body in 1951 and would be used for groundbreaking medical research.  She could not have known that because of this caner, her cells would be the first to become immortal - that even though she would die young and poor, her cells would prove to be remarkably resilient and would populate a multi-billion dollar industry.

More amazing is that her family wouldn't know any of this for more than 20 years after her death.  They didn't find out until after scientists continued researching HeLa by doing procedures on her husband and children without their knowledge. 

Rebecca Sloot took the time to sort through the story, follow the clues and cluttered paper trail, and piece together a book that reads like a good mystery novel.  She manages to throw in enough science terminology and medical history to make even an educated person feel a little lost.  And yet, Sloot's book still dwells in sentimentality.  It brings up questions of race relations, healthcare costs, medical consent, personal ownership of your own body, and ethical treatment of research subjects.  It makes us question how much control we have over our body still today and wonder if this could still happen.

I said, I read this book over a year ago and I feel like it was just yesterday.  HeLa is no longer the only thing that is immortal.  Henrietta - as a woman, as a lesson, and as a story - will also go on forever for anyone who has read this book.

People are People

Last week, I read a book that disturbed me in a way that no book has done in a long time.

A friend of mine asked me to read a book she was considering reading.  Everyone knows I read faster than the average human being so usually it's easier for me to read it and let people know if it's worth their time, than having people take the time out of their schedule to read something that turns out to be junk.

My friend happens to be the mother of an inter-racial child who, at 6 years old, is experiencing a bit of an identity crisis.  I think we've all been there - we look around and realize that for whatever reason, we don't fit into the world we're living in.  Usually it's for some simple and ultimately irrational reason (I don't have the right clothes, my hair's too curly, my house isn't big enough) but when a child looks around and realizes that there is no one in the life that looks anything like them, it's a little scary.

The book she asked me to read, Beyond The Whiteness of Whiteness: Memoir of a White Mother of Black Sons, is written by a white woman who married a black man and also has inter-racial children.  In this case, she comes to identify more with her husband's family than with her own and her sons see themselves as black more than as white.  I can't tell you which cultural side my friend's son will grow up to identify with, but I told her she needs to read this book.  Everyone needs to read this book.

It saddened me with how honest it's portrayal of the world is.  I'd like to think that I look beyond how a person looks before I judge them, but in reality no one in our society really has.  Maybe if we were all blind, things would be different.  But then again, it's human nature to single out differences - we all want to be individuals and in doing so, we create in-groups and out-groups to help differentiate one another - so if we were blind, we'd probably marginalize groups based on how they talk or something like that.

I've always been a firm believer that it's not my place to judge.  I'm not perfect either.  Yes, it's easier said than done, but for the most part, I come to know people as people, not as a color, or a label, or any other identifying factor prescribed by our culture.  But the fact of the matter is that millions of people in our world are judged because of those things.  This book might just address race, but it makes you look at your world and see how other people are viewed regardless of who they are.  The same book could be written about homosexuals, or Muslims, or any one else who is seen as not the majority.

I am well aware that any time these conversations come up, it's a touchy subject.  The overt bullying of gay people has been all over the news lately and there are plenty of people out there who don't understand what the problem is.  There was a rather shocking incident at my own alma mater, a place where I was expected to accept everyone regardless of what their background was.  Racial incidents haven't disappeared, whether our culture wants to pretend that having a black man in the White House makes a difference or not.  Religious tension is felt every single day.  Unfortunately, this is probably never going to change.  There are people who I'm very close to who might not agree that it should change. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that this book reawakened me to a problem that our world can't seem to solve.  For my part, I want people to know that I accept people as people.  I think that my friends know I will support them no matter where their lives take them as long as they are willing to live honestly - I hate seeing my friends afraid to live their lives.  And I hope my students know this as well.  None of us are perfect and I can't make that big of a difference as only one person.  But I can try, right?

Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress

Today, a little review of something I read quite a while ago.  I actually borrowed the book to a friend and am waiting for it to be returned but whatever.  It's worth the read and I thought I'd share it since the book has been on my mind for a while.

Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress looks at Susan Gilman's quirky childhood - she grew up as the "uncool white kid" (as her website says) much like the rest of us did.  Of course, in order to have a best-selling memoir, her life was certainly more eventful than mine was but still.  Most of us can relate to being the odd one out, and boy oh boy was she an odd one.  The title comes from her meltdown surrounding her wedding - what's a feminist to do when she's gotten to the point in a relationship when it's time to try on wedding dresses?  While I haven't had to try on wedding dresses yet - thank god - I can see myself in the same position.  I've said for quite a while that I don't know if I'll ever get married.  It's not necessarily that I don't want to get married, more that I don't think I'm the kind of person that needs to.  I don't want to need anything (besides of course food, water, and all of the basic things that you can't deny in life like a great pair of shoes).  But if I get to that point, I can guarantee that I'll have a meltdown, much like the one which serves as the title of this book.  Same thing with children.  The idea of children isn't so bad but if I actually get to the point that I'm prego, I can bet it'll be an issue no matter what stage in my life I'm at.  It's comforting to know that a not-so-average yet all around ordinary life can serve as a best-selling reminder to the rest of us that we aren't alone in our insecurities, our idicincricies, or our all around strange-ness.

Susan Gilman's books are good for a decent laugh, cry, or general all around feeling of "God, at least my life doesn't suck that badly."  I also recently read her book Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven, which details a trip to China she took soon after the country opened for American travel.  While it wasn't my favorite book by any means, it left me wondering how so many strange things can happen to one person.  And it made me want to travel to completely different cultures, but since I work a real job there will be no traveling all that soon.  

Her writing is genuine and has a quality to it that makes you realize that all of these improbable things really did happen.  If they didn't, she's a wonderful liar.  Better than the rest of us, at least.