Quarter-Life Crisis

Turned 25 about two weeks ago.

I sense that this is somehow supposed to be a watershed moment. My mother continues to jokingly remind me that when she was my age, she had already given birth to me. She also continues to innocently ask about any plans for me to get married. By 25, I guess some people think that this is supposed to already have happened. Oh, and don't get me started on the advancement of my career...

But really, 25 isn't a special age anymore. What used to be a reliable demarcation line for success is now simply a number that affords me certain sad privileges that aren't all that great when you sit and think about them. I can now rent a car without fear of extra fees or stern rejection from the people behind the Hertz desk. Also, everyone tells me that my car insurance is supposed to drop dramatically the moment I hit this age. What, does being a quarter-century old denote a heightened ability to drive slower?

Side note: If there are any other benefits directly related to being 25 or over, please let me know. I want to abuse all of them. Maybe even in the same weekend.

The reality of this numeric situation hit me square in the face when I was taking a survey...somewhere. You've taken these; you know how it works. They ask you for your gender, age, and ethnicity before allowing you to go further. Ages are broken into categories: 18-24, 25-30, etc. I'm no longer a spry statistic...I fall squarely in the middle.

Even worse is the fact that I'm getting hit by old people diseases. Last month, I had a couple of kidney stones that were so bad that they needed to be removed via a rather...invasive procedure. While I was in blinding pain, the doctors thought this to be both hilarious and enigmatic. How could a kid in his mid-twenties get kidney stones? Bah!

While this isn't my midlife crisis by any means...I somehow feel like I'm entitled to a brand new sports car. Feel free to leave one in the comments.

The Plight of the Unemployed

Not working is one hell of a job. Here's how it goes:

8:30am: Girlfriend's alarm clock rings, then another. Then another, then another. We both ignore said alarms and doze for another half-hour.

9:00am: Sensing that she has actual responsibilities to take care of, girlfriend gets out of bed and prepares to commute to her place of gainful employment. I remain unfazed and asleep.

10:30am: Hunger awakes your humble narrator. I stumble into the kitchen, prep a quick breakfast and check email.

10:45am: Breakfast summarily devoured; now browsing job boards on Craigslist and professional sites. Sometimes there is a post, sometimes not. If there is, I wait to become less groggy and then I send off the necessary materials. If there isn't, I whine via Twitter about there not being jobs available.

11:30am: Email is then checked, and messages from companies saying that "they admire my resume and portfolio but can't hire me" are replied to politely through tears. I update my Excel spreadsheet of companies I've contacted.

12:00pm-1:30pm: Lunch, bitches!

1:30pm-4:00pm: Check job boards again in the vain hope that a company has put something up that I can throw a resume at. (I learned a few months ago that companies very rarely do this if they're only looking for one person...in this economy they'll get hundreds of emails/applications regarding the job. They're loathe to post because they don't want to go through tons of applications.)

4:00pm: Surprise! Nobody hiring today.

4:00pm-7:00pm: Video game time. At the very least, I can take my frustration out on aliens or zombies.

(Rinse and Repeat)

Anger Mismanagement Training

Contrary to popular belief, I need to become angrier.

The reason for the lack of posts thus far is not because I'm lazy as shit (yes, I am at times), but more that I've got a complete lack of lexical stimuli. Back when I was still at The Bad Place, I could think about the goings-on for a moment or two and then work myself into an uncontrollable rage that could only be satiated by pounding a keyboard with my forehead. Yes, alcohol typically helped in this most sacred process, but if it works then why break it.

This leads me to believe that I need to put myself in situations where I need to treat everything as a binary. No longer will I be ambivalent; all matters of happenstance will immediately trigger a response of either gushing-petting-puppies-love or splattering anger.

What will this lead to? Probably a lot of fights, or people thinking that I'm bipolar. But at least I'll have material.