Dear Twenty-Somethings

16 Nov

Dear Twenty-Somethings,

Hey.  Hi.  Yeah.  We’re adults.  I like to think of us as adults.  I know, I know, bad economic times and all that jazz, who knows for how many years we’ll still be partially (or fully) dependent on our parents–

(helloooo I’m what polite society calls a “poet”.  What impolite society calls “unemployed with hardly any professional experience and definitely without a suit”)

(possibly a “good-for-nothing” or a “nothing-good-for” as I once said in grade school about the boy who was torturing me…

Hi Mike!  What’s up?  You’re probably a perfectly nice human being now, properly socialized into not pushing people down on the woodchips or throwing water balloons in their faces when it’s supposed to be a soft-toss.  Your blog looks fantastic, much fancier than thishere business.  Then again, I hear you make (made? you’re done? retired? go to hell)  a living designing and selling digital icons, so chances are good you know a lot of things I don’t.  Hope you’re well.  Say hi to your family for me. )

Adults: adults wear real clothes to work, not pajama pants or workout clothes, even if they are graduate students and therefore still on university campuses.  (Exception: adults who work at home! Yay!)  Adults do not solely sleep on friends’ couches when they travel– look, if it’s convenient and people you know and love and a nice couch and you can be reasonably sure you won’t find a retainer stuck down between the cushions from 1983, go for it.  If it’s a bunch of guys you just met and they “seem cool” and their house smells kind of bad, pay for a hotel/hostel/shared dumpster space already.

Adults also clean their houses, have tables where they eat (rather than a permanent pyramid of beer cans), and sometimes clean out the refrigerator.  I know I know none of it sounds fun.  On the other hand, all of it smells decent and has the appearance of being able to handle life 60% of the time.

Sometimes I think the grocery store is going to kill me too, and then I remember other people my age have babies.

Entire squealing life forms hanging off of their bodies who are dependent on them for everything.  Just thinking about it makes me want to lie down on the floor for a while like I do when I’m vacuuming and I get tired.



2 Responses to “Dear Twenty-Somethings”

  1. Leslie 16 November 2010 at 9:27 am #

    Yes, yes. Yes.

    I know your cousin Sam, and he told me I should read your blog. Sam knows what he’s talking about. Anyway, yes. It is 12:25 p.m. where I live (not on a campus — I AM 29, after all — but near one). I just got out of the shower. I’m having my morning coffee and trying to write a paper but mostly reading blogs. I don’t think this will change by the time I’m 30, either.

    But maybe it will change if I ever find myself with a living, dependent being hanging off of me? Maybe.

  2. Margaret Michelle 16 November 2010 at 9:51 am #

    Welcome, Leslie! So glad to have you. As I sit in my pajamas and read blogs too, and talk to friends over GChat. I like to pretend I’m going to get in the shower and get dressed before noon. Maybe. Maybe not.

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