There’s an old Mark Twain quote that’s typically offered as advice to authors suffering from cases of writer’s block: “Write what you know.” I usually tend to shy away from quoting old, questionably racist white men, but Twain may have been onto something. Writing authentically about lessons you’ve learned firsthand and drawing conclusions from personal experience can rarely lead you astray. The only problem with this mentality: what if you don’t really know anything?
Maybe even though you’ve trailblazed your way through life navigating unpredictability, battling your own personal demons and conquering feats you didn’t think you would be able to, you still feel like you don’t really know shit about the world. But, you’re not alone – my Millenial friends and I experience this same feeling practically every day. Growing up, our generation was taught to live and act a certain way to guarantee future success, which I’m just now finding out to be, quite frankly, a steaming load of bullshit.
In high school, we’re told to apply to top colleges for a good education and choose a sensible career path to obtain a stable income and job security – yet we emerge 4+ years later jobless, and buried in mounds of debt. As women, we’re told to be “nice girls” and refrain from putting out until the “right” guy arrives at our doorstep (cue dumb cow and milk analogy) – but when they do, we’re somehow supposed to be experienced in every position in the Kama Sutra. In Kindergarten, we’re taught virtues like honesty and loyalty to maintain friendships, but as adults, friends stop reaching out for no good reason at all. At the risk of sounding like a conspiracy theorist, my friends and I wonder if the things we were told as children and promised as adults are just part of an elaborate sham to keep us permanently on the outskirts of success and confused as ever. Our generation is perpetually in an odd contradiction of adult and overgrown child, always on the fringe of having our shit together and being somewhat of a hot mess, so it’s no wonder we take to Tik Tok dances and Trader Joe’s chicken nuggets for comfort. If you feel like you’re on the verge of a quarter-life crisis because of one or more of these things, you’re not alone – I’m right there with you. I see you, queens!
Such is the epitome of being in your twenties in 2020. In fact, it’s often right when you’ve arrived at concrete truths you think you’ve discovered about the world that it feels like the rug gets ripped out from under you. People often talk about teen angst, but mid-to late twenties angst is a lot less acknowledged.
I’ve been re-watching Glee in light of Naya Rivera’s recent death, and in one memorable episode, titled Blame It on The Alcohol, annoying yet lovable Rachel Berry declares that in order to perform a song about the dangers of alcohol for a school assembly, she must experience the dangers firsthand. (A night of binge drinking, sloppy karaoke, and spin-the-bottle ensues.)
I tend to take a similar approach to my writing – in order to accurately draw conclusions about the ups and downs of relationships, friendships, roommates, careers, and other quirks exclusive twenty-something life, I need to fully experience each of them, and only then attempt to unearth my own conclusions about the world. However, my way of learning about the world is by way of writing. Kind of the inverse of what Twain had said, I’m writing to get-to-know the twenties decade of my life a little more deeply.
Quarantine has given me more than enough time to reflect and philosophize (is that a word?) about what I’ve learned during the first four years of my twenties, and what I still have yet to figure out. The stories I’ll share with you are all truthful and personal, and as such, names and some locations have been changed (not trying to get fired, guys). Otherwise, they’re 100% authentic.
The stories I share and the steps I’ve taken to get enlightened about the world might border on idealistic, sometimes frantic, and occasionally a little cringe-worthy, but overall with good intentions. Good vibes only. Save the turtles. That sort of thing. If I haven’t lost you by now, then great! Keep reading to join me on my quest to make sense of the Catch-22s that the defining decade of our twenties so often consists of – or as someone who was born in 1996, the Catch-24s.
Bear with me on my journey into the semi-known.
Cheers,
Sasha