Twenty Somethin'

            Everyone is bound to get it, at least once in their lives. It’s probably more common in younger age groups, but it can and does penetrate every age barrier. Like the chicken pox, the common idea is that you’re better off getting it while you’re younger, because having had it is also the vaccine for the future. Unless you get a second dose of it, which is less common, but it does happen, and often worse than before. If you do happen to get it when you’re older it can be more severe and dangles precariously between its own definition and being described as a ‘mid-life crisis’.

            Getting under your skin and making your feet itch, it moves the mild, the meek, the brave, courageous, educated and whimsical without discretion.

            What is this ‘bug’ I speak of? The Travel Bug, my friends, and I’ve got it bad. In fact, despite obvious attempts to cure and remove it, it seems only to grow stronger?

            I suppose, all in all, it started out innocent enough: I had just crested 18, and, having finished high school, the world was brimming with possibilities before me. What new path would I forage for myself? Further education? Career? Travel? I decided that by landing and accepting my first ever audition as a professional dancer onboard a cruise ship was the answer to all three. It was there that I was going to get paid to do what I love; dance and travel. Who could ask for anything more? However the ports weren’t quite as exotic as I expected: being originally from the great north western part of the U.S., I didn’t think cruising from L.A. to Mexico was quite the riveting new scenery I had anticipated, however, I was delighted at my opportunity to broaden my horizons and explore ‘my own back door’ in a country-esque kinda way. Little did I know what lay around the corner….

            It was onboard this ship, a fresh-faced 19 year old, away from home and on my own for the first time, that I anticipated on setting aside a substantial amount of money to save for my expected future university fees that I would indubitably incur at the completion of the contract. We were also paid in cash, every two weeks, thus rendering our (well…my) sense of money down to that of Monopoly’s paper money, and I was the banker!

            Within days of being onboard, I met the most sensational person alive (or who has ever lived, for that matter) and was hooked from the get-go. Despite copious amounts of advice from my peers, advising me that ‘cruise ship relationships don’t last’ and ‘long distance relationships don’t work’ and ‘he’s from Ireland, you’re from the U.S., this is never going to work!”, as soon as he finished his contract a few months premature of mine, I booked a one-way flight over there to visit him.

            The envelopes of cash that had been previously entitled ‘college fund’ were hastily scribbled out and replaced with ‘summer spending money’ and ‘return ticket home’. Well, what was supposed to be only an 8 month cruise ship contract turned into almost 6 years of globe trotting. From that initial adventure across the pond spawned adventure after adventure:

            I’ve lived in and drank with the best in Ireland, briefly acquainted myself with Big Ben, experienced Europe, lived in Italy for two years (and consequently now speak Italian), cruised around the Mediterranean, ridden camels in Egypt, become scuba certified in the Caribbean, raised thousands for charity, bungee jumped from one of the highest peaks on earth, ice climbed glaciers, swam with wild dolphins, road-tripped, back-packed, couch-crashed and packed my life away into a suitcase more times than I can remember.

            I’ve been down, on more than one occasion to my last few cents, but preservation and my belief that a fall back plan only allows you to fall back has always rendered me successful. I’ve been broke, I’ve cleaned toilets and I’ve also performed in the number one show in a country. Although it was dancing laid the eggs that were to later hatch the travel bug, I’ve tried my hand at any number of jobs; some rewarding, and some so heinous, I’d prefer to live on 2euro a day then to undertake again. Even when I first got to Melbourne, I spent my last $11 on printing out my CV’s, and I’m pretty sure that I only had 45cents left in my pocket until I landed a job.

            Now that I’m rounding the corner on 24 and can clearly see 25 years of age around the bend, I’m constantly bombarded with the same questions, both from friends and family as well as my own conscience:

            What am I going to do next? Where is home? Where, or at least, which country, do I intend to make my home? When am I going to “grow up” (as it were) and get a real job?

            Honestly, I was of the conventional societal mentality that roughly around 30 years of age I’d be prepared to settle down and do the whole, marriage-mortgage-white-picket-fence-puppy-kids-deal. That time line seems to be lurking just around the corner with a perception of doom, instead of leading me down the ‘the expected happy ending’ path.

            So, my question to you, loyal readers, is this: At what point in time is one expected to ‘grow up’ and enter the adult world of credit cards, mortgages and responsibilities? Is it essential? Or can one roam like an eternal gypsy (or earthling, as I was recently described to myself by a random pedestrian) and escape the negative connotations that are often carried by gypsies and adult travelers? Is there a cure for the travel bug, or am I (and others like me) to conform, work 9-5, Monday-Friday, slowly building my pension so that i might be able to retire one day and…what?…Travel?

            At what point must the love of travel subside and acquiesce to the duties of being an upstanding, successful adult in today’s society?

                                                                                                                                                                                                 Natalie xxx

Katy was getting hassled just before she left for overseas to get her degree finished. Her parents, particularly her Dad, would hassle her non stop about grades, subjects, assignment deadlines. He even pursued the point when us girls would come over for pre drinks before a night out, trying to guilt her for partying when there was studying to do and bailing us up for our opinion and our hopeful support of his. Naturally we nodded, standing in his house, but remained relatively silent on the topic. That was until consoling Katy, who got very upset, was a part of the friend’s duty for the evening.
          Her Dad’s point view was meant to be caring; I can see how well intentioned he is and I am sure Katy does too. But there seems to be this total lack of communication and understanding between the ages that more than infuriates my friends. She feels like her Dad just wants what he thinks is best for her without actually understanding or knowing what she really wants. Katy thinks her Dad is too old to have any connection with his twenty something year old self. Is she right? Is it possible for people of two completely different age groups AND values see eye to eye?

My response:

Wow, what a big question. I feel so sorry for Katy. My Aunty had issues with my cousin not getting her driver’s license despite having attempted to get it. My Aunty couldn’t fathom quite why my cousin seemed ambitionless (in the driving department that is) and what was stopping her from doing something that seemed so easy. The case actually was that my cousin was too nervous to drive and it had become a genuine fear of hers. But she never said anything to her Mum. She never said anything ‘to explain herself’. I guess that brings up another point: we need to explain ourselves to the one that we love. We need to justify our actions, especially to our parents. In my point of view our parents feel like they need an explanation from us because we owe them our lives. But they will always be the people who know best to us: will they ever accept that we might know better for ourselves?

         Last year I spent way too much cash on travelling overseas but it was very worth it. You can’t put a price on these cultural experiences, or the shopping that is so amazing, but importantly I may never have the opportunity again. One day I will no doubt have kids and a job with zero flexibility and the idea of travelling overseas won’t be worth the ordeal of organizing it. I have just thoroughly depressed myself.
         I came home from New York City over a month ago, it easily being the most amazing city I have ever seen. The bright lights and the exquisite shop front visual merchandising made it easy for me to lose myself in the hype of the foreign city. On my first night, with handfuls of shopping bags in tow, I got so carried away I ended up on a train that took me to Queens, leaving Manhattan. That’s how excited I was.
        As I toured through the streets, looking at the famous sites, I began to feel like I had been there before. I was walking down Fifth Avenue and stopped out the front of the New York State Library. I thought it was a beautiful building, stunning with its white marble like columns, and felt instantly connected to it. The BF commented on its beauty but began to laugh at it, to himself. After my confusion he explained the image of Dan Akroyd, Bill Murray and Harold Ramis running out of the building, scared because they had seen a ghost. It was the opening scene of Ghostbusters and I became overjoyed that I had seen a true landmark, by my Hollywood standards that is.
       As we continued down the Avenue, we came across Trump Tower, known only to me from my days of watching the Apprentice, and opposite it was the Plaza, the setting for the mischievous adventures of Michaly Culken in Home Alone 2. I made more Ghostbusters jokes when I saw the Statue of Liberty, laughed at signs that pointed to Jersey, thinking of Snooki and the Situation, and making crude remarks out the front of Katz Deli, the setting of a famous orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally. The best sight would have had to have been when I strolled down Prince Street, in the West Village, and stopped to take photos out the front of Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment.
      I felt like I knew New York like I knew my backyard; I felt like I had seen these sights a million times over and knew their every detail but it was the first time I had ever seen them. Is it something about my age that purely knows everything simply from media exposure? Does everything have to be from a movie or a TV show for me to know it?

When I first travelled two years ago, I was twenty one and it was a very different experience to travelling at twenty three. Two years ago I suffered from severe homesickness and felt as if I wanted to always go home. I couldn’t let myself relax or truly soak in what travelling was all about, I just kept thinking about a life I kept missing out on. When I got home I quickly learned that nothing changed whilst I was gone; I didn’t miss any special occasions, everyone was still doing the same old things, everyone’s lives remained fundamentally unchanged.
        At twenty one I was scared I was going to miss the fun, that by being away I was being left out. I wish I could have fully understand that when I left for Europe. Luckily when I stepped onto my flight to NYC, I knew that everyone was jealous of the fact I was going and that when I got home everything would be just the way I left it. Has anyone else had similar travelling experiences to mine, or in fact the complete opposite? Feel free to share any horror stories!
                                                                                                                         Xx E

Today I turned twenty four. I feel like I have been twenty somethin’ for the entirety of my life; I cannot remember quite how it felt to be a child or teenager without any cares or concerns., nor do I remember what is like to have a youthful resilient body that could push through most illnesses or, at age eighteen, any big night. At pre twenty five I think I am stumbling towards a mid life crisis as I am convinced I am too old for my chosen trade, an actor and model, and am headed for a life of meaningless jobs and money earners that I loathe. I am yet to finish my University degree, that fact I also hate, and have racked up credit card debt that is proving impossible to shake. I did not envisage life at twenty somethin’ to be unfilled and fundamentally confusing.
                    My love life is the best it has ever been; I have an amazing man who has it together a lot more than I do. Maybe it is because he is years older than me, possibly because he is so very smart and can make more rational decisions than I am capable of. He is the BF and I love him very much.
My friends are fabulous but live very different lives to me. My two best ‘girl friends’ are from when I went to school but I only became close with them in our final year. The rest of the girls I barely see because our lives have gone in different directions, no fault of theirs or mine. When I first heard that most people drift apart after school finishing I was convinced, whole-heartedly, that I wouldn’t be one of those people. Six years on I can count my closest friends from the day I graduated on one hand.
                   Katey is the most distant of my friends but only because she is on the other side of the world, working in London. She left only six months ago and I have been counting down the days until she returns or, at the very least, I can talk to her on Skype. She finished her degree, worked for a year, then jet setted off overseas. I will be forever envious of the order in which she did it all; I wished I had her good sense to finish one thing before moving onto the next. Katey is a beautiful, sweet soul that I can take anywhere with me. She fits into any crowd and speaks to a stranger warmly like she has known them for years. I have never been hurt by Katey, never shared a cross word with her, never ever had raised voices with her. I feel blessed with her friendship.
                   Charlie hasn’t left me yet but is currently packing her bags. She has got a job in Brisbane starting mid February and is uprooting her life for the amazing opportunity. I am secretly excited; I love Brisbane and love Charlie so the two together give me the perfect excuse to escape Melbourne on the odd weekend. Charlie is fantastically intelligent and poetic to listen to. She is my fountain of rationality; I can always rely on her to give me the clear, unemotional point of view that I hate being told but know I must hear it. She is in no way cold or unfeeling, simply confident enough to tell me what no one else has the stomach to. I love her for it and am trying to blackmail her into staying. So far it isn’t working.
                  Harvey is my male best friend and he is great for the male opinion when there is too much estragon in the air. He is a fantastic guy but not my type so I am constantly trying to set him up with my friends or critiquing the new girls in his life. The ladies quickly learn who they need to impress: me. One girl learned this so quickly that she forgot to actually date Harvey and was too interested in me. Harvey plans to go overseas for six months for an extended holiday, so I look forward to losing him too.
So as my best friends leave me, and thank god the BF doesn’t, I stare into 2012 feeling nervous and apprehensive, wondering what I am going to make of this year. Am I too old to try pursuing something new? Or should I embrace my youth; I’m not over the hill yet my logical brain keeps telling me.
So what are your plans for this year? Is anyone feeling as apprehensive as me? Let me know.
                                                                                                                     Xx E