Those Dreaded Twenty-somes

When I turned 21, I thought I had finally got my shit figured out. But no. No one warned me that a second puberty hits you somewhere in your mid-twenties.

May be scientists don't know about it yet. I've definitely never read anything about this phenomenon in health science education textbooks. But that doesn't mean it isn't real. In fact, it's so real that it hits you in the face on a beautiful autumn afternoon when the sun is glistening gold, and keeps you awake eating half a pound of cherry tomatoes at 2am on a Monday morning.

This crisis is of an existential nature. Books and novels have been written on the theme (Most of which I do not have the time to read anymore, because that's what college is about- turning you into a scholarly article-digesting nutcase!) Scientists don't know about this yet. Psychologists do, but they pretend not to because the DSM-V is not out yet (Anyone care to share that shit on Piratebay?). Your parents forgot to warn you of it because they were too busy dealing with their own shit, which they happen to have a label for- midlife crisis.

[I use the word "shit" too much? Speaking of which, I promised to pinch myself every time I used to word "like" unnecessarily =) Yeay to me and to good language!]

The ugly L-word

Has anyone ever told you that you shouldn't fall in love when you are a teenager? They were right, but they didn't tell you the whole truth (Is a half-truth as bad as a lie?). The real truth is, falling in love is a bad idea. Period. If you're going to fall in love, you're going to have a bad time.

Oh but look, after taking research class after research class I still haven't learned the rules of my trade. How can I make a generalized statement about something without defining it first?

So, what does it mean to fall in love? Constant butterflies and giggles and blushing cheeks? Happiness? Good sex? What does it ultimately boil down to?

I am old enough to know what love is (at least I hope so). It's this unconditional bond you cannot wish away; this affection and commitment that does not change, except on a few bad days and a few good days. I love my mom. Like that. But falling in love? Dafuqs that, right??

Bills and shit

Of course love is not only shit that hits you in the face when you reach your mid-twenties. Suddenly you've got bills to pay. And groceries to buy. And an immigration status to protect. Yes, that shits as real as it gets.

Then there is the question of choosing a career path. And you thought picking subjects at Ordinary Levels was hard. Suddenly, you see the expanse of the rest of your life before your eyes, and you do not know which color to paint it in. Do you really wish to tread the path less traveled?

Disillusionment and Fear

And when this cloud settles over you, shit gets real. You wake up afraid. You watch work pile up, graduation draw nearer, and still have no idea what you are doing. And when a friend asks you if you want to throw your homework down and eat spicy garlic chicken wings and wander about Walmart, you say yes. Because you'd rather ignore that clutter and noise in your head and drown it out with means of instant gratification. 

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http://fairytalesfor20somethings.tumblr.com/

Facebook is the new Cocaine

Here I am after a rather long absence. My brain has been all scrambled lately with the crazy amount of coursework, little side jobs, and this thing called a social life that I've somewhat reluctantly taken on this semester.

Shit hit the fan this last week or so when I realized that my old ways of living just won't do anymore. I was slacking behind in my classes, skipping a majority of them, letting homework and laundry and dirty dishes pile up. So from this week onward I've decided to start living a new life- a sort of a metamorphosis if you please.

I have a bedtime now, and I try to stick to it somewhat strictly. Right at midnight I slip my feet out of my acrylic woolen house slippers (that guard me from the ice cold floor- jeez I don't know how I will survive a winter in my shack of a new home) and tuck myself in.

My alarm goes off promptly at 7.15, but I've so far failed to break my habit of hitting the snooze button a dozen times. Then I shower before marching to the kitchen like a sleepwalking penguin (and roll down the stairs and hit my head and bruise my elbow on the worst days) to brew lovely Costa Rican coffee and breakfast (French toast/peanut butter/strawberry jam).

Better economics is also part of my self-improvement routine. I try not to eat out, and when I do, it's as a small gift to myself for having been good. I train myself like a puppy. That means Caribou is now a special occasion.

I also feel like I cook better now, and I seem to be able to run a functional mental inventory of all the groceries I have. And here's a tip for you- always shop with a grocery list, and never on an empty stomach. It prevents you from reaching for those yummy-looking things on sale that you don't really need. Then there are certain things that you should go ahead and buy in bulk if on sale, like Mac and Cheese and toilet paper. But before you do, pop out that calculator and do some math- Walmart works under the premise that half its customer base is half stupid.

That's pretty much it for today's How to be a Better Housewife. See you folks next week with more tips on better living... no, well fuck that. Here's what I came to write-

I kind of thought about the things that were getting me bogged down, and Facebook topped the list. I always rationalized, told myself that social networking is an important part of any modern human's life. It keeps us connected, informed, united ladida. But as of late, it has been getting me more depressed than happy. My newsfeed fills with all the problems of the world, and I share them and get everyone else into a bad mood. Then there are my "friends", few who are truly close to my heart, others like "How the fuck do I know you?" and "You so stupid you don't deserve to live!". Then there are the well-meaning people who share pictures of their dinner, or images about how their imaginary friend loves us all. "Share this if you love Jebus, keep scrolling if you love Stalin".

So yeah, that shit's mainstream. I deactivated my account approximately 2.5 days ago, and I'm still alive. But so many times I have had this mind-numbing involuntary reaction- opening a new tab and typing "f". Then I realize what I've done and heave a sigh. It was a little heartbreaking at first, losing my access to a constant stalking platform, but now I feel liberated. I already had a few concerned friends ask me why I've left. "Did something scandalous happen?" Yes, the Illuminati is out to get me! Facebook is the new cocaine!! And I'm saying no!! You should too because drugs are for losers!

"I've had enough and I want out!"
"You can't walk away now!"