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“There's
a moment you know you're fucked” is perhaps one of the most inspiring words I
heard from the song from Spring Awakening.
I haven’t been bothered by my quarter life crisis for a while now because I’m
busy adulting and all that. I feel a sense of calm these past few weeks I
haven’t felt straight out of graduation. For one, I think I’m contributing to
society; and second, I’m no longer a complete parasitic freeloader. But the
time soon comes where I’ll be unemployed again and wondering what the hell to
do with my life.
The good news is that I’m giving
myself some space (I’m so single, I have to give myself a break). I no longer
focus so much on mapping my life and instead awe at the green, green grass of
freedom ahead of me. Yet of course, my quarter life crisis still hangs at the
back of my mind and taunts me that my field of freedom is full of black holes,
booby traps, and the waterfall of failure and self-doubt. In fact, I was just
watching a contestant from The Voice,
which mysteriously led me to pondering the lyrics of Billy Joel’s song
“Vienna,” which then steered me to look at songs about quarter life crisis,
which ultimately drove me to calm my nerves by listening to Natasha Bedingfield’s
“Unwritten.”
“Slow down you crazy child. You're
so ambitious for a juvenile”; “Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?”; and “You
can get what you want or you can just get old”—I don’t know about you but Billy Joel’s song is
piercing me straight through my quivering, overly sentimental, whiny, chronic
overthinking core. At the end of the day, I think it all boils down to me not
wanting to look back on my life and see only the regrets or think I’ve wasted
every second of it. I guess I wanted to strike while the iron is hot or at
least, mildly warm. I know feeling lost is normal, but it’s not fun.
So far I’ve been conditioning my
worrywart self to feel all right with the fact that I don’t know what I want. I
have no concrete plans and I want to revel at the idea that the rest is, in
fact, still unwritten. Release my inhibitions; flip my hair; and all that jazz.
A little side note: these feelings
are—gladly, I guess—subject to change in the future.
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