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20-Something

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

And One Day She Stopped

I have a boyfriend.

This may be nothing amazing in developments for Mankind, but for anyone who knows me, it is nothing short of incredible.
Or maybe it’s not.
Maybe it’s just mind-blowing to me.

You see, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a very long time. Instead, I mostly dated a string of assholes or, now that I’m older and have more objectivity I can say, “gentlemen who were not interested in me enough to date me and/or not at a place in their life where they were able to satisfy my dating needs or any other person’s dating needs”.

I dated the sort of guys that kind of said they “didn’t want to date anyone right now” but that didn’t stop them for getting all up in your grill like they were super interested in you, then disappearing, confusing the living shit out of you even though you should have been wise enough to decipher that “they don’t want to date anyone right now” really meant “THEY DON’T WANT TO DATE ANYONE RIGHT NOW” and that’s why they disappeared, duh.

I was twenty-something (more…)

July 22, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

The End of the Quarter-Life Crisis

your standard moody twenty two year-old self-portrait

Yesterday I turned 28.

Because of this, I’ve been finding myself hurling unwanted advice at young people lately.

When you’ve almost made it through your 20’s in one piece, you feel that you’re obligated to let younger people know that it will all be ok. That all the questioning and confusion and bad decision-making will get better.

That is assuming that everyone was an early twenty-something messbag like I was.

That they spent the better part of their 21st and 22nd year drinking alone in their West Hollywood apartment taking pictures of themselves drunk in the mirror and typing horribly structured journal entries that started with phrases like, “Why won’t someone hold me?!” or “The right side of my face feels numb, but I’m ok with that.”

That they would randomly break out into a cascade of tears at dinner with friends for no reason. Then excuse themselves from the table and disappear for three days.

That (more…)

June 13, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

The Dizziness of Freedom

I recently discussed on my blog how I’ve developed crippling anxiety attacks at nighttime. Crippling is a strong word. More like curling up in a ball and whimpering myself into exhaustion. I’ve become absolutely convinced every night someone is trying to break into the house. Every single night. Like people have nothing better to do than hang outside my house and contemplate stealing the useless stuff I have to offer them every single day.

I know that these fears are irrational, though they are somewhat founded in recent violent goings-on in my neighborhood. Last week, two separate muggings occurred at popular east side bars, one where a young lady was brutally punched in the head. My boyfriend also lives in close proximity to the one intersection in all of Austin that houses every crackhead, prostitute, and pimp. Needless to say I envision a Thriller-like ragtag group parading in on the house as soon as the clock strikes 3AM.

On the surface my anxiety stems directly from these (more…)

May 19, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

The Twenty-Something and Debt

my $1000 LA studio bedroom…in a closet.
There was a time when I had money.

There was a time when I thought I had money.

There was a time when I thought I had money and acted as such.
There was a time when I thought I had money and acted as such because it was my only option. This is why I have no money. When I moved to Los Angeles at twenty years of age, I had minimal education on how to manage my finances. Home & Careers class in high school definitely didn’t teach me much.  I mostly learned how to peel a potato and make soup from a $.55 french onion soup pack. Maybe the class was preparing me for a life of processed food poverty? My father lived every day as if it were his last, often randomly jumping on his motorcycle and scooting across the US or indulging in fly-by hobbies such a recumbent bicycling or job quitting, so he wasn’t a great teacher either. My mother was the most solid role model in that she informed me I should only put on my credit (more…)
May 2, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life, Writing

We Are Squirrels

spaz

Along the same lines of my recent post about Millennials and their work ethic, “The Generation of the Confused Working Class“, here is me going blah blah blah some more about the terrible “problems” my generation faces. 

I have the attention span of a squirrel on cocaine.
This is a recent development.
As a child, I was way too self-involved to be distracted by anything.
Being an only child will do that to you.
Sitting for several hours by yourself talking to Trolls will do that to you.

Now that I’m a big kid, I’m self-involved, society-involved, media-involved, and technology-involved.
Now my head is filled with a million notions of what has been and what could be.
Now I drink to make the voices stop.

On-set ADD sucks ass- and I don’t even have ADD. I’m one of those self-diagnosed folks. You know, the ones that figure it’s easier to give a name to something they won’t take responsibility for? Like totally flaking on your friend’s wedding shower because (more…)

April 26, 2011 by
20-Something

The Generation of the Confused Working Class

yay for cheesy stock photos!
I read articles that say my generation doesn’t want to work. That we expect a lot in return for giving very little to a job. We like to run from job to job. That we have no idea what we want to do with our lives so we act indifferently towards our work. We spend too much time socializing at work. We spend too much time on the Internet.  We bitch and moan and complain about how much we hate our job and don’t understand why we dread going to work every morning.

I’m no stranger to these statements. Uninspired, unmotivated, disillusioned, and distracted are all words I’ve experienced at various employments. So much in fact that I’ve had to step back and ask myself, “Is it me or is it the jobs I go after?” (the jobs being in various creative fields, but mostly the film industry).

Tired of being constantly stressed and hearing myself complain, I began analyzing my various employments. I began my career life as a personal assistant. I did (more…)

April 20, 2011 by
20-Something

The Definition of Friendship

source

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun examining the words “friend” and “friendship” more and more. Both words have taken on different meanings to me, multiple meanings, meanings I’m still not quite sure I even understand. Our childhood definition of “friend” has one interpretation- you are my friend, I hang out with you, I call you, I include your name on poorly drawn pictorials of my life where we have huge asymmetrical bodies and small heads. There are no networking friends at this age, no social media friends, nobody that you go out drinking with unless it’s juice boxes on the playground. These are people you care about and enjoy sticking marshmallows in the microwave to see what they do and eat tubs of cake frosting with.

Then we go to high school and the friend definition splits- you have your best friends, your friends you don’t trust, and the friends that you partake in social activities with. That ideology roughly stays the same throughout college and then (more…)

April 14, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

Try a Little Tenderness

source

“I haven’t been in love in a long, long time,” she said to herself in the best Otis Redding impression she could muster up. Heightened emphasis on the first “long.” Eight ‘o’s’.

“I haven’t been in love in a loooooooong, long time,” she kept repeating just enough so the purpose behind the sentence meant nothing anymore.

“Hell, I’m not even sure I’ve ever been in love,” she laughs to herself. “I’ve been in infatuation and then something thereafter, I think?”

This prompts her to sing the Rod Stewart song of the same name, but it’s not as enjoyable as her made-up Otis song.

She takes a moment to think back on them all.

It started with Adam. He was the only one to run the course of infatuation, to post-infatuation, to end of the road.

Adam is married and lives in Kansas City and has a second baby on the way. Three weeks after he ended their four year relationship seven years ago, she stopped thinking about him. It scared her how quickly she got over (more…)

February 14, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

This Must be the Place


Sunday was a quiet and simple day.

The sort of day that every person looks forward to. Sunny, warm, and sweet.

I wandered around the house pondering what to do. I was bored and feeling completely stalled.

Boredom blurs the lines of content and ambivalence.

I paced the house, I picked up and moved an object or two, I sat down, I stood up, I did 8 push-ups, I turned on the TV, I turned it off, I listened to 2 1/2 minutes of a song, I turned it off.

Finally, I stood in the doorway and looked down at the ground. Seven years ago, I thought, seven years ago this behavior would have culminated into me having a drink, me writing a bunch of nonsensical lament in my notebook, crying, then falling asleep fully clothed with streaks of mascara running down my face.

I was 20 then. I was in a new city. I knew no one. I worked 24/7. I felt utterly and completely alone. I was bored. I paced the house. I overthought. I discovered that I had insecurities. I had my heart broken by adults. (more…)

February 8, 2011 by
20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

Teenage Lyrics from a Twenty-Something Poetry-Hater

 I have a secret to confess.

I don’t like poetry.

I never have and most likely never will.

However, when I was younger I used to like to write songs with very emo lyrics about boys.
Or hypothetical reverends.

Music has always been in my blood. My Dad is a pianist and I played the piano for twelve years and tenor saxophone for eight. Typically I’d write these songs about boys on the piano, for it was difficult to translate the twenty-something angst through the breathy wail of a tenor saxophone hanging around my neck.

During this time I also kept a journal equipped with stickers, pasted in Tom Ford ads, doodles of a cartoon girl who looked like me, and these lyrics I wrote about boys. Cleaning my bedroom last night, I came across my old journals and discovered that I wrote all of this teenage tripe THREE years ago when I was 24. I must have forgotten that when I was 15, I only wrote songs about dinosaurs and David Bowie.

I’m going to share some of these embarrassing lyrics/non-poems with (more…)

January 10, 2011 by