I just made up a word: MetroMillennial. It means a Generation Y-er who lives in a big city or has big city hopes and goals.
I’m a metromillennial. I was born in 1983 in a small town in Upstate New York. I always knew I wanted to live in New York City (which I never have). My family raised me to be curious about the world, to dream big, and to not let the confines of our small town hold me back.
Because of this, I left my small town at the first opportunity I had. I moved to LA seven years ago, then Austin three years ago, and I’ve never lived in my small town again.
I’ve felt guilty ever since.
If you are a metromillennial typically your big city trek takes you far from home (unless you’re one of those enviable breeds born in a big city and stayed). I came from an area of the country that is economically depressed and subsequently emotionally depressed. Regardless of if I wanted to live in a big city or not, if I wanted to have a semi-decent quality of life and desirable career– (more…)
Last week I wrote a post about how self-help/how-to lists are often written by people completely unqualified to tell you how to live your life.
This week, I’m writing a self-help/how-to list about surviving your 20s.
Hey, my blog is not called Hipstercrite for shits and giggles.
I’m not even finished with my twenties, so I’m certainly not the best person to heed advice from, but I’ve come across many articles about how to survive your 20s and I think they’re full of crappola. Most of the articles will say something like, “Find balance” blah blah blah. Well, that’s bullshit. You’re going to be a basket case of questions and worries and imbalance for a good chunk of your 20s. The best you can do is try not to let yourself go insane.
Looking back on my 20s, no amount of advice or wisdom from others was going to prevent me from making the choices I did. I was going to do what the hell I wanted to do, but looking back, I certainly learned a lot from my mistakes and wished maybe (more…)
I peruse the Internet like a mo-fo and because of this I’m only able to enjoy rudimentary things like lists.
I especially like self-help/how-to lists- the sort that give you tips on how to become a better blogger or lover or lover to your blogger (we need a lot of attention).
If there is anything that I’ve learned from self-help/how-to lists it’s that the people who write them are not really qualified to tell you how to improve your life. Most of the time their advice is simple and ideas rehashed from other articles written by people who are also not qualified to tell you how to improve your life.
I spend most of my time trying to unlearn everything I’ve read from lists I enjoy reading on the Internet daily.
I constantly fall victim to thinking that these lists will hold some magic key words that will suddenly make me fearless, entrepreneurial, balanced and wealthy. I mean, don’t we all? Don’t lie. You know you love the lists. YOU LOOOOOVE THE LISTS!!! I figure I drift through life, (more…)
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…)
|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.
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…)
|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…)
|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…)
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…)
“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…)