I mean, has anyone ever talked about how your early 20s sometimes feel like re-entering the world as a tiny, scared, clueless baby? Oh, your 20s!! I remember when I was 20. Don’t you remember when we were 20, Sharon? This is the reception I get every time I tell the Sharons of the world I’m 20. That, or they don’t believe me and instead mistake me for a fifteen-year-old. One of the two.
But really, as much as these years are full of unabashed, self-destructive fun, a lot of the time they’re terrifyingly undefined, neither-here-nor-there moments spent questioning everything you’ve done over the last 20-odd years. There’s always the potential that it is just me having a privileged white existential crisis living out here in a huge share house (The bathroom is just like… so hard to keep clean! Ugh.), but I’d like to think it’s a little more than that.
When you spend so many years knowing a few things, but knowing them very well- your family house, high school friends, the three hangout spots you frequented on the weekends- a new city brings a truly technicolour world of experiences you were completely clueless about. Which you realise are most things. And because young folk are malleable, absorbent and curious creatures, you begin to change.
Maybe, in a moment of weakness, you give yourself a wildly bad drunk haircut with a pair of blunt scissors. A nose ring. An earring. Any piece of metal anywhere, really. You buy a bum bag or an exorbitantly expensive pair of sneakers with what should be grocery money. Maybe you date a boy, or a girl, or both and realise it was a terribly tragic, temporarily life-shattering mistake and you cry and do the cliché breakup things you told yourself you’d never do. It’s confusing and awkward. Like puberty. Except you’re too old to blame it on puberty anymore. I mean, you could. Sometimes I still do. It’s just too hard to resist when you still look fifteen.
Well it turns out I am the reigning queen of subjecting myself to awkward and confusing encounters (subjecting is a nice way of putting it: more like choosing to dive in, head-first). And while this blog was, and will always be, a wonderful aspect of my inappropriately adolescent life, I think it needs to grow up.
Because I’m not nearly as interested in a consistent photo stream of me in different poses anymore. Not that there’s anything wrong with that- I just think I’m not nearly as good at it as I thought I was and, in the spirit of transparency, it’s probably a little detrimental. I’d like this blog (and connected social media platforms, if you will) to be more reflective of my current chaotic-and-clueless state. I think I’ll write more and hopefully it will be entertaining. I really haven’t thought much past that. In life, I mean. That’s about all for the forward planning.
So I hope you enjoy this for all that it may or may not amount to.