Happy Quarter Century to Me, Indeed

Tomorrow at 7:03pm, I will have completed a quarter century of life. Twenty-five years in the books. Really not that much more significant than any other number of years, but for some reason, our culture puts an emphasis on multiples of five. We never really commemorate our 37th birthday or our 8 year anniversary, but for multiples of five, and especially for 25 and 50, we seem to take an extra moment to reflect on the significance of the occasion.

For my generation there's something a bit scary about 25. We've taken the mid-life crisis and turned it into a mid-mid-life (or quarter-life) crisis. (I can only hope that I live to be 100!) There's a part of us that says that we must have messed up somehow if we haven't yet, at age 25, made a fortune, started our own company, written a bestseller, won an Oscar, ended a humanitarian crisis, or done something else of monumental proportion. Even as the baby-boomer generation proves that achievement is not just for the young (and is in fact often better suited for the older), we still feel the need for early and recognizable success. As part of a generation that will live longer (and better) than other generations before us, it seems strange that we feel such pressure at such a young age. But after reflecting on it, I think part of the reason is that we're a generation that has always been taught that we can be anything we want to be. And we've been witness to people just like ourselves being all these things we might want to be. We grew up after the civil rights movement and after the women's lib movement. We've faced more open than closed doors. The options are phenomenal. And because of that we've bought into the idea that we can indeed do anything. Which in many ways is true. What isn't true, however, is that we can do everything. And for many in my generation, being able to do anything means being able to do everything. The truth is that with every door we open, with every path we go down, we close another door and leave another path behind us. Yes, sometimes, it's possible to go back, but that's rare and often unrealistic, because other doors and other paths are always waiting to be chosen. And as we choose and go, we move further and further away from other possibilities.

As Jeff and I were watching the figure skating at the Olympics, I looked at him and said, "I'm sad." When he asked why, I said that I was sad because I will never be in the Olympics. Silly, and truthfully, I wasn't actually that sad, but I did have a realization of sorts. It's not as though I'd trained hard at any Olympic sport or barely missed making the team, but growing up, I, along with probably millions of others, had a desire to be in the Olympics, standing on that platform while my flag was raised and anthem played. At 5 and 10, it was as real of a possibility as anything else. At 15 and 20, it was less likely, but still perhaps possible should I have found a hidden talent and dedicated myself to it. But at 25, the truth is obvious: I will never be in the Olympics. I will also never be an astronaut, a dancer, a musician, a doctor, or so many other things. Maybe if I'd taken lessons when I was younger or chosen a different major, I could have been any one of those. Maybe this. Maybe that. But I made different choices, and as such, I will never be any of those. And I think it's that realization that makes the ages around 25 difficult. It's not so much the idea that I am not those things that is disturbing, but the idea that I can't be. For a generation that has grown up with the notion that they can be anything they want to be, the realization of life's limitations is cause for reflection - and for some, crisis.

But instead of thinking about all the things I have not done and will not do, I'm going to reflect on the things that I have done in this quarter-century of life.
1. I have married a wonderful, smart, funny, attractive, and loving man. I have had the best wedding ever.
2. I have become financially self-sufficient. I have a nice apartment in a nice neighborhood. I have enough money to enjoy the things I enjoy.
3. I have lived in Greece. I have taught English, seen the Greek isles, roadtripped through mainland Greece, eaten hundreds of gyros, learned a few words of Greek, made two amazing friends (and some other good acquaintences), and had the best post-college experience anyone could ask for.
4. I have seen the Pyramids, visited the Valley of Kings and Queens, and snorkeled in the Red Sea.
5. I have graduated from college with two degrees and honors.
6. I have lived in Germany. I have learned to speak a second language near fluently. I have skiied in the Alps.
7. I have traveled to over 20 countries. I have backpacked on my own through Europe for nearly two months. I have visited Italy with my mom. I have seen the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland, and France with my mom and aunt. I have gone to Egypt with Greg and Mark. (I'm still waiting for Matt and my Dad to join me on an international adventure.)
8. I have visited most of the 50 states. I have roadtripped through the West with my whole family. I have snorkeled in Hawaii with Jeff. I have visited friends throughout the country.
9. I have built a circle of friends who I love, enjoy, and can count on.
10. I have given a valedictory address at my high school graduation.
11. I have camped in Ireland with hundreds of other young people and lived with a host family in Dublin.

Combine all of that with other things too numerous to mention and with the fact that I can walk, talk, dress myself, read, write, drive a car, use an escalator properly, feed myself, cook for myself, and clean myself, and I think we can all agree that I'm doing pretty well.

So, there, 25. You don't scare me...at least not that much.