It is to be reached one day by the reverberations of those who do not follow, to stumble out of the jungle and fall into an abyss:
It is then to be blind to the faults of the rebellious, to yearn painfully, wholly, after all opposites of childhood’s existence. It is impetuousness, wild enthusiasm, immediately submerged in a flood of self-deprecation. It is the cruel awareness of one’s own presumption…
...It is the emergence of cynicism, a probing of every thought and word and action. (“Ah, to be perfectly, utterly sincere!”) It is a bitter and relentless questioning of motives…
- Susan Sontag, Reborn: Early Diaries 1947-1963
Tomorrow I am turning 27. Actually in 5 minutes. Actually by now 5 minutes ago. I’ve always seen 27 as one of those landmark ages, like 18 or 21 or 50.
In my misunderstood adolescence I started preparing to join the 27 club with my musical faves; Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain - destined for greatness and tragedy. I simultaneously saw 27 as the ideal age to get married and settle down and have babies. I didn’t seem to think those two plans were contradictory. Furthermore, my mother used to tell me that she didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life until she was [already] 27 – so I had a lot of time to work things out.
But 27 has quickly caught up with me and, as it turns out, I am not a drug-addled international rockstar like my ill-fated idols; I just came out of a serious relationship so wtf even is marriage srsly; and I have no clue what I’m doing with my life. At least I’m consistent in my inability to stick to deadlines.
[That gif isn't really that relevant but I really wanted to put it somewhere and this spot seemed most apt.]
I tend to live in a constant state of nostalgia about being 18, partying five nights a week, bunking classes, meeting people – mostly meeting boys, having new experiences, learning new things and new ways of seeing things. (“So much potential!”)
The constant nostalgia is largely due to a constant state of anxiety at feeling quite directionless, a feeling that has persisted since it arrived when I entered my mid-twenties and had to start checking new boxes on forms. 25-34: a new age bracket. A grown up age bracket. LOL jk.
Everywhere I look my peers are getting married, having babies and, WORST OF ALL, buying property. The only things I regularly invest in are new shades of cheap lipstick from Dischem. Every time I go through all the wedding or baby photos on Facebook of people I went to school or university with (or who I’ve never heard of but one of my Facebook friends has been tagged in their album), I think “laaame, you’re so young, you’re missing out on your youth, this is like going home from a party at 9pm lol”. And then I’m like hang on this is a normal age to do these things. Fuck.
I can only comfort myself with thoughts of some of my own recent achievements, like learning how to style and fill in my eyebrows without watching a single Youtube tutorial. #balling #eyebrowsonfleek
The truth is, I have plenty of friends who are in a similar position to me: who studied something they were interested in and passionate about, were full of ideals and ideas, and have landed up in their late 20s feeling like how did I get here and where am I going and how do I earn more money and fuck humanities degrees and someone pour me a glass of wine.
Getting older is getting scary without any firm sense of purpose or direction, and it’s been a bit of a tough year. I kindof want to say stop the bus! I’m not rich or famous yet! But given that that is unlikely to happen, here is a short list of somewhat shallow self-reflection on 27 and getting older:
1. The wine gets better but the hangovers only get worse.
2. Good friends are just sooo NB. Having friends to drink with and to eat with, friends to cry to as much as I want and need over a broken heart, friends to be gross around, friends with good advice, even friends with bad advice (depending how fun the advice is) is everything. Chicks before dicks or whatever the bros before hoes equivalent is.
3. Relationships and break-ups don’t get easier with age, they actually seem to get messier and more complicated. Serious relationships feel that much more serious and therefore their endings feel more serious.
That's not to mention trying to enter the post-break-up dating world which is simply a minefield of fuccbois that makes me want to run away and hide in the foetal position under a chair.
Boys are stupid and that’s the most mature thing I have to say on this issue.
4. Some things never change. There will always be scandalous stories about what I did when I was drunk or what she did when she was drunk or can’t evens about who is sleeping with who and you know what I heard.
5. Ideals and principles don’t put food on the table. My priorities have had to change and this has unfortunately correlated with an increasing sense of disillusionment.
Also almost no one I know is anywhere they thought they would be now, and also that’s ok (unless it’s the worst, in which case it’s not that ok).
6. Everyone is winging it. Some are just better at it than others. That’s what I need to improve on.
There are obviously other things that have touched me, from the very political to the very personal, but it’s late and I want to sleep, and I’m also winging this post anyway.
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