All Grown Up and Nowhere to Go

Humor me for a minute while I quote some lines from a musical, Avenue Q:

What do you do with a BA in English?
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college,
and plenty of knowledge
have earned me this useless degree.

I can't pay the bills yet,
'cause I have no skills yet.
The world is a big scary place.
But somehow I can't shake
the feeling I might make
a difference to the human race."

Yes, the musical is meant to highlight the innocence and naivety of those fresh-out-of-the-womb (that is, college) grads who hit the job market, panic, and start longing for the comfort of their dear alma mater. Yes, it is meant to provoke laughter on the part of all those wizened 30-somethings who watch it and think, "how young and self-absorbed they are, thinking that life comes to an end when you turn 25!" Yes, it also really, really, speaks to me.

I find that I can now relate in a very intense way to the stereotypical trials and tribulations that the musical's characters endure: that is, un- (or under-) employment, stalled love life, money woes, and of course, that pesky feeling that you still don't know what you want to be "when you grow up." Post-college malaise in its purest form.

Yes, on a purely abstract level I understand that I'm only 22, and that all this worrying about missing out on opportunities that will define my life course is wayyyyyyyyy premature. But on a gut level, I can't help it -- if I'm paying taxes and bills and working 8-hour days and contributing to an IRA plan, then dammit, I'm as grown up as I'm gonna get, and I feel almost entitled to panic a little about having my life not be as ideal as I once dreamed. But then I get a reality check, and breathe a little, and realize that everyone I know (in that post-college, pre-marriage cohort) seems to be going through EXACTLY the same thing. So I put off worrying for a little while, and instead check out the DC happy hour circuit, which it seems, unlike having a quarter-life crisis, IS an age-appropriate activity for me.

Speaking of happy hour, yesterday I got my ID checked upon entering a bar, and the guy looks at me and says he has the same birthday as I do, except in 1985. So there you have it -- I have officially had my ID checked by a guy a year younger than me. I feel perfectly entitled to feel old.