Two days ago I turned twenty-three.
I'm not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, getting philosophical about turning yet another year older, in my twenties no less, is a study in bourgeois privilege - a line of thought most of the world does not have the luxury to pursue. On the other hand, I'm a Millennial with a blog. So it's happening.
Other statistics to consider:
-I graduated almost two years ago (twenty-two months)
-My majors were in History and in Film/Television (focus on television)
-I'm trying to be a writer
-I'm from the suburbs of a big city, attended a large university in a smaller city, and moved back into my parents' home for a good chunk of my post-college existence
In the time I've graduated college, I've had seven jobs, eight job offers, four internships, four residences, and one gym membership I ended early. I've quit three jobs (one out of stupidity, one because I moved, one because an internship boss offered me a better job before taking it back a week later), been fired three times, and worked more than two months at two of these jobs. More than three months? Not quite.
Two of these jobs, Pinkberry and a smoothie store, didn't exactly require a college degree. Two more of these jobs, as a customer service rep and an office assistant, required a degree that was never put to use. One of these jobs fired me after six days. One of these jobs fired me on day one after requiring me to move closer into the city (which I did).
My current job pays the most, offers the best overtime, has the best bosses and the best coworkers, and in general has the best office environment. My current home is fairly new, comes with a dishwasher, and is decidedly not under my parents' roof. (I love you, Mom and Dad, but I can't live with you if there is literally any other option. Well, not literally any other option, but you know what I mean.)
To have gone through all this and learned nothing would be a waste. Some of this could have been avoided. Some of this is just life shitting on me in case I felt left out. Some of it was probably for the best - jobs I got fired from were jobs that either sucked or sounded like they sucked - seriously, after one day, I can only make an assumption.
But I have learned a lot, things I should have learned earlier and somehow didn't.
I learned that you have to work hard, or at the very least pretend you're working hard.
I learned the value of pretending to find work when there is literally nothing to do. I am bad at this.
I learned that it's easy to work when someone tells you to do something, but it's hard when you have to figure out the direction yourself.
I learned that living with your parents not only stunts your personal growth, it reverses it.
I learned that finding a job you enjoy, even if it's not in the field you want to have a career in, could be the best possible thing for a young twenty-something.
Paying your own rent sucks when you want to spend money on stupid shit.
I fucking love paying rent.
Don't EVER quit a job without a Plan B.
People in your life, more often than not, actually don't give a shit about whether or not you succeed. Your family? Yes. Your friends? Eh... most of the time. Especially if you pay for drinks.
Growing pains, in this next phase of life out of school, totally blow.
BUT. Drinking is legal.
California's liquor laws kick Massachusett's liquor laws' ass. Hard.
A day job is for money, but it helps to enjoy it. To succeed, though, you need to schedule time to do all the other stuff too, that's not at work.
Independence is not handed to you on a silver platter. It is something you work for. (Yes, this is a thing I had to learn the hard way.)
Learning things the hard way? Not as fun as common sense.
And perhaps most importantly, everything you learn has been learned by someone else in a more profound way.
Thank you. More frequent updates to follow.
No comments:
Post a Comment