Twenty Something

I’m 21 (so I can legally drink everywhere. Yes, everywhere in the whole entire world. But I still can’t hire a mini-van), I have a degree and I have moved out. I’ve done various internships which have all been eye opening, interesting and beneficial in completely different ways. I think I’m ready to admit to myself that yes, Lisa, I am now in the real world. Work, salary, bills and post-work drinks are all a reality.

Wham slam bam thank you ma’am. I guess you could say that I’ve been given free reign on life.

But I still see myself in a somewhat sense of quasi-adulthood / quasi-childhood, a kind of halfway house... Rather than photos in gilded frames I have fairy lights on my wall (dorm room chic), some of my clothes are currently on the floor and this weekend I’m going ‘home’ to visit the fam where I still have my bedroom. I like that. Hell I neeeeed that! If the ceiling were to fall on my head, I could potentially scramble home, tail between my legs and hide under the duvet. Although not literally advisable, it’s nice to know that the option is theoretically still there.

Currently, blogs, TV programmes and the general media are full of the term ‘twenty somethings’ to describe my age and generation; sometimes positively, sometimes negatively. Although I am a wee bit sick of it, it is quite nice. It seems socially acceptable to be in this self-labelled limbo.

The ‘twenty something’ blanket gives me a bit of time to sloooowly ease myself into being an adult. It psychologically gives me a bit of time to fully grow into my adult persona. Ideal. If someone were to say to me today: “you are now 100% an adult” I think I’d be pretty scared. In my books, ‘adults’ don’t make mistakes on tax forms, let the bins overflow or forget to pay bills. Obviously one should avoid these things at any stage, but perhaps a ‘twenty something’ is expected to still make a few mistakes. I like to call it learning by doing.

So despite the fact that I am ready to face the big, bad world and throw myself into the deep end of the rat-race, I think I’ll happily hold onto that ‘twenty something’ label for a bit. A little psychological teddy bear for the road.