The 250 Square Foot View

In the weeks leading up to my 30th birthday this past February and in the weeks following, I sat down several times to write a thoughtful blog post about what turning 30 meant to me. What had I learned? What would I have done differently? What wisdom could I share with someone a few years younger than me, like my brother, to save them a few headaches and heartaches? I was going to call it “Reflections on 30.” But ultimately I felt the piece was too preachy and I decided to scrap it. (If this was 20 years ago, I’d have a little garbage can filled and surrounded with crumpled up balls of paper–instead, there was only an unpublished draft sitting in my WordPress queue.)

I had all but forgotten about my failed blog post until this past Thursday when I came across an article called “Turning 30: 10 Things I Know Now About Getting Older” by Melanie Curtin via The Huffington Post. I was excited to read it. As a part-time writer, I always like to see how someone else might tackle a subject I’ve written about, or tried to write about, myself. And as a 30-year-old, I was curious to see what sorts of reflections Ms. Curtin had gleaned from her own three decades on this planet. Would she have reached any of the same conclusions I had about relationships, family, money, career, or social awareness?

Before we get to her piece, I’d like to explain myself. I realize how lazy and hacky it may seem to give up on my own “turning 30” piece only to critique someone else’s writing about the very same subject I myself had failed to articulate, so I hope you’ll forgive what seems like judgment and see it instead as a second opinion that in no way negates Ms. Curtin’s thoughts or feelings based on her own life experience up to this point.  Okay, onto some of her Reflections…

Reflection #10: I am impressed with myself for simply ‘getting by.’
Since graduating, I’ve supported myself with limited credit card debt (<$6k) and without relying on things like antidepressants. This is probably a better track record than at least 40% of the American population. I’m going at life full-out, experiencing it all without numbing it or dumbing it down. Every day. That makes me proud.

I had this very same thought many times throughout my 20s. In New York City, but really anywhere, being able to support yourself when you’re just starting out is almost miraculous. Just ask the college kids graduating now and the ever-increasing numbers of under-25s who are forced to live at home because the job market is so tight. If getting by at 30 (for me, anyway) means I can make my rent every month, afford to feed myself, and occasionally bring home flowers for my fiancée, that’s a pretty nice worst case scenario.

But I think we can do better than the worst case scenario. Some of us—myself included—may never do any better than getting by. I don’t think that means we can’t set our sights a little higher.

Reflection #9: No job will be entirely perfect.
There are a lot of ways to do good in the world. Some pay better than others. I’ve worked as a highly-paid tutor teaching French to kids, and I’ve worked as an advocate on behalf of survivors of sexual abuse. One isn’t better than the other, and sometimes it’s OK to get a job just because it pays well. Do-gooders can be self-righteous. Finance people can be kind and giving parents. Sometimes it’s OK to chase the money.

Ms. Curtin is right on the money here. There’s no right answer to the question of whether to chase passion or security, money or fulfillment. Very few people get all those things all in one career, and even fewer get it right on the first try. If you’re not one of those people, that doesn’t mean you’ve necessarily settled.

The book on Millenials–a term which describes those of us born in the 1980s–is that we’re entitled (a nice way of saying we’re spoiled brats). We feel that just for being born, we deserve to have everything life has to offer. We eschew paying dues because we all think we’re wunderkinds who will change the world some day.

And with that mindset, many of us struggle when we don’t end up with the careers our teachers and parents promised us. We’re ready to cash in our thousands of hours of homework and studying and SAT prep and AP credits for a high paying–but also intellectually stimulating and emotionally rewarding–career. Only we’re starting to realize that it might not exist, or that it does exist but when nearing age 30, it’s too late to switch career paths (or that in this economy, we should be thankful to have a job at all). That makes us frustrated and confused and pissed off. Curtin’s suggestion, to simply accept that no job is perfect, might be the best solution as long as you’re relatively happy in the other more important aspects of your life, i.e. your personal relationships.

Reflection #4: I am fortunate to have solely first world problems … and my problems aren’t insignificant.
Should I get a Kindle or a Nook? What should I do with my life? Maybe I should see a show tomorrow, instead of staying in. What do I do about the fact that I wore the shoes today so my feet are wet — do I buy new ones? Should I eat my Luna bar now, or later? Who left the toilet seat up!? #firstworldproblems.

I don’t have children to feed or schlep up and down subway stairs. I don’t have HIV/AIDS. I don’t have to walk two miles to a well every day, twice a day, that might have malaria in it anyway. I’m not an orphan. I’m not addicted. I have access to clean bathrooms (with soap) and potable water — the water that comes out of my shower is drinkable, for crying out loud.

At the same time, the emotional growth I’ve done has been extremely confronting and arduous. It’s not better or worse, it’s just distinct. There are lots of types of challenges in the world. I used to be ashamed that my problems weren’t ‘enough’ or ‘valid.’ Now I feel grateful that I’m physically housed, clothed, and fed, but I also recognize that the work I’m doing in this lifetime is also legitimate — it’s just different.

I believe Ms. Curtin is trying to say this: Each person’s problems, and in turn their happiness, is relative to their environment. Her point is valid to a degree, but I don’t like the way she makes that point. Problems like “Kindle or Nook” aren’t insignificant problems because they’re not problems. When those of us fortunate enough to have #firstworldproblems start comparing ourselves to people who don’t have access to clean water, I think we’ve lost sight of what constitutes an actual problem.

Don’t get me wrong. I am absolutely guilty of complaining about the exact same stuff she’s talking about. But can I really compare slow service at a restaurant or losing hot water in my apartment for a few hours to being an orphan or contracting malaria? OF COURSE NOT! And when I actually take the time to think about that, I feel like spoiled a-hole…and I probably should.

I give  money to a few different charities, but I can probably afford to give a little more. I’ve done some volunteer work, but not nearly as much as I could be doing. While it might not be realistic to donate large portions of your money and time to the less fortunate, I also don’t think it’s okay to let yourself off the hook for those things under the guise of “my problems are as valid as anyone else’s.”

—

Since I spent most of this post dissecting Ms. Curtin’s Reflections, I decided it was only fair to share some of my own Reflections after all. Here goes:

There is a HUGE difference between good coffee and bad coffee, and between good beer and bad beer. (But boxed wine is just fine.)

My best friends are the ones who would still be my best friends even if Facebook didn’t exist.

Texting is a completely valid form of communication, just not when you’re asking a girl on first date.

On many the happiest days of my twenties, my bank account was empty.

And here’s one last Reflection that was common to both my list and Ms. Curtin’s:

Reflection #2: I still look pretty hot for 30.
Booyah.