By no means is the Twenty-Five year old experience universal. But, like any good bildungsroman plot will prove, there are certain elements that surface like guideposts on the path to what ultimately should look like stable maturity: landing a steady job, maintaining a reasonable level of health, investing in hobbies, and, of course, finding that fabled special someone.
I, on the other hand, have fallen into a career path that, while incredibly rewarding, is nothing like the profession I pictured for myself at any stage of my life. With a MA in Publishing from London College of Communication, I find myself a healthcare recruiter for New York City jails. I finished running my first 5km in over a decade just this past April 2019 and practice calorie counting like its an olympic sport (wine excluded). My hobbies include avoiding responsibilities like cleaning my room while sitting in a pile of laundry watching Game of Thrones (yes, in) and attending probably an excessive amount of concerts (see Candidly Concerting). And finally, I can’t seem to find that perfect balance of finding romantic confidence off apps like Tinder and Bumble while simultaneously ignoring texts from my ex.
All in all, you could say it’s a certifiable fustercluck.
But isn’t that what your mid-twenties are all about?
That’s why I am making this blog. I want to record and interact with this year in a way that is authentic and gritty, evocative and damn real. Because I know that my experiences are not unique, albeit not universal.
So hop in, buckle up, and put some tunes on the aux cord. I’ll let you pick, passenger’s treat, because somethings have to remain sacred.