Oops I… don’t know how to be an adult

adult

I write this article from my work computer, a Mac with a French keyboard that has proven to be the bane of my existence. Typing absentmindedly and confidently for years has made my current reality of constant backspaces and my toddler-esque approach that much more brutal. 

Was there ever something you took for granted in everyday life? Stopping by Starbucks on the way to work, sitting in your favorite chair, having a pair of broken-in heels, never having to remember a password because your computer did the work for you? 

Being an adult, in my limited experience, is equivalent to getting dropped off in a dark forest with a half-eaten guidebook and a phone number to a customer service center. You’re scared, lost, and very still wondering why the hell you’ve been on hold for 3 hours.

In my grownish state, I go between being an independent adult and calling my parents every couple of hours for help on being a normal human being. 

My first real job

I recently started an internship at a marketing company in Paris, my first real internship. For the first week I came home defeated everyday, not because of any strain on the job or dislike of the company, but because I could not believe that people actually did this every day. The daunting vision of a preached life hit me over the head and rendered me exhausted. Your day, almost your WHOLE day is spent working. Having dealt with the COVID-19 pandemic for the last 2 years, I had grown accustomed to having time to do my own things during the day. I could go on a walk, workout, cook, clean and just hang out in between classes. I teeter on the tight-rope of a work-life balance, thinking myself a brave, naive novelist in the process. 

Living in Paris is an almost constant state of my french keyboard. Basic things like calling a doctor and talking to my neighbor are stress-inducing. Looking back though and also at the present as I struggle with my keyboard, I think I like it. Whether it was enduring palm-sized rips in gymnastics, climbing a precarious rope-bridge in Panama, or swimming with sharks in Belize, I tend to seek discomfort. This, however, makes for a random and chaotic journey into adulthood. My mind is riddled with questions; are adults actually allowed to have fun? Who is supervising me? How do you build a successful career that’s a bit out of the norm? Where is the ‘approximate’ symbol on the French keyboard?

No-man’s land

You’d think there would be a rule-book at this point on how to do life. What’s beautiful, and also horrifyingly frightening, is that we all get to choose how we do life. We all get to choose how we want to adult and what kind of person we want to be. Maybe there are others who have gone before you that you can rely on, maybe there is no rulebook for your vision; either way, it’s your choice and your journey. 

I look forward to seeing what kind of adults my friends grow into. One of the most beautiful things about the media is that there are so many different kinds of people and lives represented in them. Maybe I’ll have a Crocodile Dundee, Indiana Jones or Carey Bradshaw in my life. Perhaps I’ll see my friends and family develop into their own versions of tropes and archetypes. Maybe we’ll all figure out this adulting thing together.