At which point to do we actually “grow up”? Is it when we reach a certain age? When we get a “real” job? When we get married? Have kids? What if even though time continues to pass, none of the usual indicators of maturity are present in ones life? Is it actually possible to write an entire essay with questions?
Seriously, though, I am a few months shy of turning 26, I’ve just graduated from University with my Bachelor’s Degree in General nothingness (a.k.a. Arts) and I still feel stuck in a certain age bracket, that is, one without “grown up” repercussions. For the moment I work with the same company I have for six years now, which made sense when I was in school because of the flexibility of the hours, but now that I have a degree with my name on it, I feel like I should grow up and get a real job. Or at least I feel that’s what is expected of me.
The truth is that I actually kind of like not being a grown up. I mean, the thought of having to stop doing something just because I’m “too old for it” really just gets my goat. Drinking cheap liquor in various parks out of a backpack with a gorilla on it is something I feel I would like to do forever, as is wearing hot pink nail polish, sleeping with Road Kill Bobby (my teddy bear), wearing whatever takes my fancy, and sleeping late into the afternoon to facilitate my late night drinking in said parks. 9-5 jobs feel like a cop out; you miss out on all the great things that happen at night when you crash at 10pm! At least it is for me when I have to do it…
I guess what I’m struggling with is the fact that I am no longer a student, I’m almost a part of the mid to late twenties bracket, I’m expected to start my career and pay off my massive student loan debts and I feel like these expectations and responsibilities, which are by no means outrageous, require me to give up everything I’ve come to know and love about my life. I don’t want to have my uniqueness sucked out through the daily drudgery of some career. I don’t want to have to start wearing tailored shirts and nylons with high heeled business shoes and carry a briefcase, because it will feel like a cheat when I try and put on my hot pink pedal pushers and a sassy t-shirt. I want to be able to have a purple streak in my hair and not worry about what the boss is going to think about it. I especially don’t want to deal with “office politics”, and the various dramas that occur when groups of people are forced to spend several hours a day with each other, every day for the next 40 years of their life.
The ultimate response to my tirade is going to be that I should suck it up and quit my fucking whining. Which is fair, lets be honest. But then I think about people who make a living doing unconventional things at unconventional hours and I wonder if there is something out there like that for me. Not hooking…or drug dealing…or hobo-ing. But actual, somewhat “respectable” jobs that are outside of that conventional box.
Clearly my beef with careers is that they seem so conventional and I am an unconventional girl. All those things that girls are supposed to want in life: marriage, children, cute little homes, flexible careers that allow them to manage the first three…I don’t want any of that. They are all part of a conventional system designed to keep people imprisoned behind a façade of normality. Call me selfish, but I want my freedom in all these areas of life. I don’t want to be legally bound to some patriarch, I don’t want to design my vacations around activities that cater to obnoxious and spoiled children, I don’t want to clean up after everyone who lives in the cute little home just so I can go off and submerge myself into a job that is plagued by office drama!
What I want to find a profession that gives me a feeling of fulfillment in my life, that allows me to pay off my loans, feed/clothe/house myself, doesn’t make me feel trapped, and most importantly allows me to keep growing into the person I am starting to become. Not try to cover it up with conventional means. Is that so much to ask? Yes, I think it might actually be…
Where does this leave me? Stuck, that’s where; working for Zellers, living with my mother, coming to terms with the impending death of my youth, and the upcoming birth of me: Adult and Grown Up extraordinaire. Excuse me while I puke on my tailored shirt…
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