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The following online journal entries are from May 1999. They are taken from older version of my website. |
Wednesday. 5:02 PM. May 5th. The day that the world is supposed to end in 2000. There is a strange resonance in that statement. It's also the day before my birthday -- tomorrow. I am not sure how I'm handling turning 29. It is my last year as a twenty-something. I know from all of my friends who are older that things are supposed to get better as I get older. They have told me that they look back on their twenties and admit to having a lot of fun but also declaring that they never want to do them again. I don't think the teenage years are the hardest years to survive. Even though the world seems upside down. Hormones, anxiety, peer pressure, thinking about college, puppy love, high school, prom dates, first cars, standing up to authority, first jobs -- all those things definitely rate high on the angst scale. But, for most, it all happens within the confines of a family and friends and school and neighborhood. Someone was around to help you, to guide you, to take care of you if needed. No matter how much we groused about our parents or our teachers or our friends, we knew that someone was close. When you hit the twenties, everything changes. Adulthood sets in. Whatever that is suppose to mean. Suddenly, we're given license to drive, to drink, to vote, to wear a power suit, to get married, to have children, to get a platinum card. All of that in exchange for doing our own taxes, worrying about insurance (of almost every imaginable flavor and variety), moving away, finding Mr. or Ms. Right, finding a career, watching the six o'clock news, and wondering how we recapture the magic of our teenage years.
I don't think our culture prepares the young for the twenties. We are
an arrogant people most of the time. We assume too much. We assume
that all women will make good mothers. We assume that men have no fear.
And we assume all children, when they hit a point in their chronology,
become instant adults. Everyone has to struggle through it, right?
I've been noticing that we don't have a lot of images of the years
between 90210 and
Friends? Is my life
Reality Bites? Is my life
Two Guys, A Girl, and a Pizza Place?
Is my life Ally McBeal?
I guess a lot of this thought comes out of the anxiety that I'm going
to lose my twenty-something status. And I do think it is a status.
I enjoy dressing the way I dress. I don't like the fact that when I
go for a job interview, I have to specify that I prefer a "business
casual" atmosphere. What does that mean? Again, appearance makes the
world go round. I enjoy my rapport with youth culture. I enjoy being
a kid in a grown-up body. I enjoy chasing after possibilities and
thinking I'm invulnerable. But, I think I do all of these things with
wisdom and with experience and with knowledge.
I'm turning 29. And it does scare me. It does worry me. I find myself
thinking that I should have a respectable haircut and wear button-up
shirts so that I can survive, get a job, not be judged immediately by
my looks. And I hate that part of my thinking. I find myself wondering
why I don't have a career right now and why I don't have the life I
envisioned when I was 9 or 13 or 18 or 25. Is it because I've missed
some essential part of the "real world" game and am playing by the
wrong rules or on the wrong board altogether? I find myself feeling
entirely too much anxiety struggling over how I "know" I should fit
in and conform just to compete with all the other Janes and Joes
trying to make it. But, why? Why does that have to be my reality?
Some people would say just suck it up and do it. Get a job. Pay your
dues. And when you've got the cash flow and the summer home, you'll
have the luxury of being as "different" as you like. Why can't I
celebrate who I am now? Why do I have to wait and accrue some sort of
social currency before I get to enjoy myself? Why is that extremely
wealthy, extremely successful people who are "different" are called
"eccentric" or "creative" or "artistic"? We know that if they were
penniless, they'd be "crazy" and "pathetic" and not worth any attention.
I know I definitely have a lot of insecurity around failure. And I
know that as I get older, I struggle with those demons of success. I
know I'm not on anyone else's timeline. I know there is no schedule
for making it. But it is hard to convince yourself to take your own
time and do your own best when the world tick marks everything. From
cradle to reincarnation, we have to walk by a certain date, talk by a
certain date, learn our multiplication tables by a certain date, decide
on where to go to university by a certain date, have a great job by
a certain date, have a family by a certain date, get a promotion by a
certain date, retire by a certain date. I am struggling with all of that.
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I know that when I walk into a temp agency that I am immediately pegged as "difficult to place" or "inappropriate for the job" or if they want to be gracious "too creative." I have been told that I have a lot of great experience and that my resume looks wonderful. I have been told that I have a great personality. I have been told I am extremely talented with a lot of skills and creativity. But, when it comes down to the bottom line, I'm not signed on. Have I gotten a call for even a word processing job? No. What does that tell me? I am too groomed for the university, I think. I have spent the last ten years of my life in the university setting. I am definitely spoiled. I taught for four and a half years and didn't have to worry about what I wore or what color my hair was. In fact, it was an asset to my teaching. And my style and true personality really showed through and really helped in connecting me to my students. Never once did anyone say to me that I was doing something wrong or doing something inappropriate. And every year, semester after semester, I was invited back to teach and hired again and again. I am thankful that my university, my department provided the opportunity for me. Though most schools can be just as mainstream and just as conservative as the "real world," there is breathing room and leeway for independent thinkers. I am working to apply for teaching at local colleges and universities hoping that the community is accepting of me as both a teacher and a person. In fact, when I went to a temp agency a few weeks ago, the recruiter asked me what I most wanted to be doing. And I said that I wanted to write and to teach. And after the interview she said to me that it sounded like I really should be in the classroom. She said that give me a job someplace else would take me away from the thing that I loved, that I dreamed about doing. And I think she is right for saying that. Perhaps I'm not getting some other job because I'm not allowing them to manifest in my life. I'm focused on something else. I know that when I don't want something, it usually doesn't happen for me. And in the reverse I know that when I truly want something and it is deeply important to me, I get it.
Wednesday. 11:08 PM. I just got back from going out with the "happy hour" crowd -- who consist of Sarah's workmate Lewis and most of his friends. Sarah and I have been going out with the group for the past couple of months on every Wednesday at a new bar each week. It's good. It's good to see different people. And seeing different bars every week is a good way to get to know different parts of the city. Tonight we went to Zeitgeist, a motorcycle bar on Valencia and 13th. It is a pretty cool place with a great outdoor area, grill, and video games. The crowd was young, hip, grungy, biker (motor and scooter and bicycle). I don't totally click with the "happy hour" group, though. They're a little older and in a totally different place than I. They're friendly and considerate. They toasted me and my birthday. Lewis invited a former co-worker of his to meet him; her name was Brigit. She met up with a friend named Greg, who was really cute. I talked to the both of them a little bit. Complete strangers. But I wanted to talk to Greg some. He's punkish, artistic, in low-cut Chucks, a cool James Dean-style windbreaker. He's a promotions artist and has been freelancing for three years now. I totally have a lot of respect for him and his commitment to his work and life. He says he's really glad that he's out on his own now. It got me thinking a whole lot. I want to be where he is -- doing what I love and doing it for myself. He was pretty straight, I think. But it was fun talking to him and flirting a little bit. He was really cute and smart and had a great smile. After the bar, a few of us went to Zante's for pizza. Peggy, who's Rachel's girlfriend and really cool, made me have two slices of pizza and made everyone else pay for me. She said that when a friend is out of work, you want them to come out and and enjoy their company. So, all the working folk pay for them to be with them. I think that's really a great gesture. And I appreciate her generosity and kindness. It meant a lot to me to be treated so respectfully and honestly by someone I hardly even know. I have definitely entered my introspective time. My birthday usually brings on such moods (not unlike the introspection I go through around New Year's). I'm pretty tired right now. And I think I'll write more tomorrow. But, welcome to four months in San Francisco. |
journal
© 2001 Edmond Y. Chang. All original material. All rights reserved.
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