Twenty Something and Crushed?

I've been scouring the website for Liz Funk's new book, Coming of Age in a Crap Economy, aptly titled Oh, Crap and I feel comforted.  It's refreshing to read the words that could have just as easily come out of my own head.

I use the phrase "Bitch, this is a recession" (in some form or another) on a daily basis in conversation with friends.  It's meant as a joke, but in reality we all know it's not.  Being in your twenties right now is no easy task.  

The website outlines the premise for her new book on the difficulties of being a twenty something adult in this economy [read: recession].  One of the thing she discusses is the giving up or limiting of the luxuries that you might have enjoyed previously with the help of a job, or supplemental income from mommy-and-daddy.  I think this is a great point, let's be honest -- it's not easy giving up things, especially when they are things that you have become accustomed to -- something that most financial guru's overlook.  In almost every article on getting out of debt you read sentence after sentence telling you to give up that $4.80 Starbucks every morning or stop shopping for things you don't need (which is most of the things I love to shop for), but no one ever talks about what that does to you emotionally.  I consider myself to be a fairly frugal spender, even with my shopping addiction considered, but that cup of Starbucks in the morning or on the way to a looooong night class, after a loooong day at work is sometimes the only thing standing between me and crazy.  Just because it sounds like a good idea, and other people live without it, doesn't mean you can just snap your fingers and not want it anymore.  Funk says, "that having to downsize is possibly the worst part of coming of age in a crap economy."  (And by downsize, she means giving things up..in case there was any confusion or connecting the dots issues)

This evening I was faced with a dilemma that (at least to me) is a great example of this.  I was sitting at my computer checking my e-mail after I finally got home from work, and realized that I hadn't made anything for lunch at work tomorrow.  By this time, it was already getting late and frankly I was feeling lazy/exhausted.  I knew I had 3 options:

1.  Get off my duff, head downstairs and make something with the groceries that my parents supply for me (almost free of charge)
2. Plan on heading to Panera during lunch hours
3. Lie to myself about waking up early to make lunch, and then knowing that would never happen, decide to go to Panera and pick something up

I liked option 2.  Tomorrow is pay day, and it would be a nice treat.  The problem with that option, and option 3of course, is that a) gas prices are insane! and b) it's not free.  I had to opt for making my lunch, even though I not-so-secretly would prefer to eat out every day of the week and be able to afford someone else to prepare all my lunches. And breakfasts.  Ok, and dinners.  (honestly, I loved cooking when I lived on my own, but my parents have killed that desire).  In the end, I realize that my made at home lunch is way healthier and a smarter financial decision.  Unfortunately, I don't make oodles of money and I have to budget.

Reading about someone else going through something similar to what I'm going through makes me feel better about myself, it gives me a certain sense of motivation (like when I read Women's Health to validate my hours at the gym).  If you are in your twenties, or even just going through a rough time, I would recommend you check this website out.

For your convenience, another link to it: Coming of Age in a Crap Economy

Reaction to Newsweek (May 2, 2011 Edition)

Let me start by saying that I am not a regular Newsweek reader.  Even though my household has a subscription to it, I am more of an occasional reader.  I like to skim through it, read only certain articles, pull nuggets out for conversational purposes.  Rarely do I find an article that I am just enthralled with, even among the many many very good ones, I think I have trouble relating to them.

However, I am not afraid to admit that at 25 I am still a huge fan of the Olsen twins.  When I was scouring the mail and saw them on the cover, I was thrilled.

[side note: it was finals week, thus the delayed reaction] 

After months of the mishaps of Lindsay Lohan seeming to be the only representation of my contemporaries being bandied about news media, the tabloids, and invading my Twitter-feed.  Coming across an article that raised the stakes and turned the tables on what "kids" my age our doing with their lives was a phenomenal moment.  A tinge of me felt like I was the slacker in this situation comparatively, as I'm sure others my age can relate, but ultimately I felt proud that members of my generation are really stepping it up.  The work ethic that the Olsen Twins have is AMAZING!  They go after what they want and are role-models for all generations.  In fact, after reading this article I feel more motivated to pursue my dreams and take risks.

I hope that Newsweek features more young Americans in future articles, the future is today and we are that future. 

**Check out the article, Look, Ma, We're Fashion Moguls! by Robin Givhan (@RobinGivhan)  #importedfromDetroit like me!

Full-Length Mirror

I've finally completed my first potential article.  A dozen or so edits, 7 reviewers, 2 meetings with the chair of Valparaiso University's English Dept. and I'm here.

Where is here exactly?

I'm not completely sure.  Somewhere between the moment where my dreams come true and absolutely nothing more than walking on hope.  The reality of the situation is that I'm sitting on a piece of writing that could be the difference between me being a no one and me being a no one plus one published article.  Before you start with the smallest violin joke, let me assure you that I am not questioning myself; I am not saying "no one" like I'm some sort of non-existent entity.  I'm a force (at least in my head), I have a head full of relevant and not-so-relevant thoughts, and I consider myself a good person to keep around (and not just because you have an above average chance of going on a free vacation courtesy of my "luck").

I think this is one of those moments that people refer to as: "a defining moment."  When I look in the mirror, I see the woman I want to be, the woman that I will be.

I'm waiting to hear back from a particular magazine about there policies on submitting unsolicited articles, and until that time (or the time I e-mail them again tomorrow) I am basking in the fact that I feel as fearless as the girl who looked back at me in the mirror so many years ago, the girl who knew who I could be.

"I guess I'm an Actor"

I'm working on a 'popular article' that started out very much in the name of a grade, and has just blossomed into something so much more.  That's such an ambiguous statement, but I'm not sure how else to frame it.  I took a risk, I guess you can call it that, and asked someone that I have recently become very aware of and equally intrigued by to take a chance on me.  I asked for an interview, pretty much on a whim, thinking the worst thing that could come out of was a harsh "hell no" type of scenario.  Amazingly, he agreed, despite having no real reason to not assume I was a complete single-white-female-stalker chick and this wasn't going to turn into some sort of fatal attraction situation [besides my identifying myself as attached to a grad school, which I'm pretty sure he just took me by my word on]. 

Well I'm not [psychotic] and this isn't [daytime television].

I've already gotten so much out of the experience and I'm still knee deep in it.  I like to think of myself as a fairly non-addictive personality - I don't even have the energy to play dress up for the Twilight midnight opening night, and I LOVE the series - but I am OBSESSED with this whole process.

Everything from the research, to the actual interview itself, to the combing through the recording [play.stop.rewind. repeat. repeat. repeat. play], to the first draft, to the complete overhaul I did this afternoon, and the critiques and edits, all of it.  There's so much that goes in to writing a piece like this.  Yes, in a sense you're still writing it for yourself and a particular audience [and in my case a professor standing in the way of an actual audience], but it's also about the subject.  I'm doing a profile on an actual person, not an ambiguous object or a lofty idea/theory, and you want to be able to do that person justice; to really tell their story in a way that represents them honestly.  There are so many positions and angles that you can take on a project like this, it's up to the writer to find a theme in the story and take a set of information and turn that into a 5 page or however long depiction of someone's life.

There's definitely a certain element of pressure, but it's quite thrilling and humbling at the same time.  I'm very excited/eager to see what the end product looks like.     

The Many Moods of R&J

I think Mercutio had it right when he told Romeo "If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for prickling, and you beat love down" (Act 3, sc. 1).  There is a school of thought that believes this is the rantings of a man that believes that love can be controlled; however, in my opinion, it is not about controlling love - but about not being controlled by it.  The idea of living outside of love's grasp and writing your own story. 

This is the advice of a man who has clearly had some experience in the torture of heartbreak.  The realization that love provides very little consolation in times when you are out of its favor tends to come as a surprise to most; but keepy in mind that after all, it is misery that loves company - not love.  Romeo suffers from the tragic flaw of perpetual lust, motivated by his drive to find true love (which let's face it, is that what him and Juliet have? or is this just another feeble attempt to rebound from unrequited love that he simply is swept up in?).  He lets "love" take its course and control him which ultimately leads to his untimely demise.  If he had been more open to the idea that love is something that we do, not something we are, like his friend was expressing to him in very dramatic fasion - maybe he would have survived it.  Instead, the tragedy lies in the fact that love conquered him.

It's easy to rely on love as the catalyst for change and internal motivation when you are in cohoots with it, but it is another story entirely when you don't fall under its protection.  The heartwrenching reality is that love is something that is often outside of our control, the only choice we have it to know the difference and refrain from letting it devour us entirely.