unapparently so

I filled out a survey and realized that I am now in the 27-34 age bracket. Strange. Though I am still in my twenties, I am bracketed with some of the thirties. How quickly years pass by when you're in your twenties...

My starting point of memories of my twenties seems to be my college years. I remember them seeming so long whenever I had a 20-page paper due or exams for which to study, or practicums and internships and service hours to cross off of my "to graduate" checklist. At the same time, they seemed so fast when a musical production ended and I noticed how much I missed rehearsals, diagnosing myself with cast-mate buddies withdrawal, or when my favorite class with my favorite professor ended and even though I attempted to audit others, I just couldn't wedge it in between all the required classes and maintaining jobs to pay for rent and food and living stuff.

Then, post-college and the grand canyon of Idealist.org, CareerBuilder, Monster.com, and finally Craig's List- all part of the Great Job Search. Wading through countless positions I was either under/over-qualified for, or in the case of actually finding one that I was perfectly suited, found that the business resided in D.C. or London or some other distant, far off place. And all this made me wonder if now was the time to start dreaming or if I would just have to pay the bills for a while. Bills and the lack of a dream won out.

During this time, I found myself hand-in-hand with an old, beloved pastime: getting to read for pleasure. No textbooks, no homework. Just novels again and again, introducing me to authors I had never before read and who now feel like old friends and new inspirations. Getting through the rest of Harry Potter so fast that I read it through all over again afterwards. All the while, running parallel to reveling in the written word, was the realization that working is hard- that my job was way too hard and was actually quite unhealthy. And I felt stuck already, even though I had just begun. Finding a way out felt like starting over from the beginning and maybe I could have done it better, but oh well.

And-so-and-so-forth-years until I realized that I actually did miss school. I missed gleaning from brilliant professors. I missed its version of community and the classroom environment. I missed the many opportunities for extracurricular activities. I missed little things like seeing young people everyday and the -isms that made up your university (barefoot skateboarders with ruffled hair late to class, the corner coffee stop, the good 'ol trolley system no matter how frusterating it could be, the warehouse where art and theatre met in the middle and created even more beautiful things (before they filled it in with more classrooms for psychology and theology students) which, I must say, I benefited from. The surety of lollipops at theatre concessions even though I never really cared for lollipops, the haphazard appearance of the theatre office where I worked in comparison to the neat and tidy appearance of the switchboard operator office where I also worked. And all this made me consider entering the post-graduate collegiate world to engage myself in further scholarly pursuits, especially since working 2-3 jobs at a time during my brief college experience left me feeling like I did not really have the chance to soak it all up in the first place. English is the only thing I would truly consider, but even then- what I would really do with it sits in a vague place of my mind.

These days, I begin to forget anything other than what I am doing now and this has been where dreams begin sparking. What I really love to do is ____. If money weren't an issue, I would ____. And eventually, Even if I am poor and would have to stay poor, I would still want to do ____.

And all that to say, here at this stage of age 27-34, I have landed. And I like the dirt beneath my feet.

photo booth strip | l.a. county fair 2011