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By Jess, July 25, 2011 8:35 am

Today, I officially exit my “early twenties” and enter the perilous “mid-twenties.” I am 24. This means I can no longer blame ignorance or poor decisions on youth.

I’m happy to report that at 24, I’ve had a few adult accomplishments. For instance, I did my taxes, successfully navigated the DMV, joined the world of smart phones, and — after 2 years of living in the same apartment — purchased furniture.  My one regret is… not listening to to Blink 182′s “What’s My Age Again?” enough during the past year (for its numerous references to 23, obviously). So here goes a few more rounds before the day is done.

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By Jess, September 3, 2010 12:37 am

I don’t remember much about my high school graduation, but I DO recall one piece of advice passed on by my Physics teacher, Mrs. Rosenthal, who was selected by students to address the Senior class:

“Just keep moving, just keep moving.”

I would be lying if I said I’d consciously kept this tidbit in mind during the last 5 years, but it’s been a subconscious effort nonetheless. Most of you know the story of what I describe as my post-college peril: some part-time work, two fantastic but unpaid internships, and cheap but deeply flawed housing. In the midst of it all were wonderful and supportive friends, but it was still hard to face when my future was an amorphous blob of which I could only see three months at a time.

Today, my life is a little less perilous, but the vagueness of the future persists. Two days ago, I was looking at a frighteningly open calendar and wondering… what’s next? Two days later, I’m happy to report I’ve lined up some solid work through the New Year. The catch? I will be working overnight shifts, and my life as I know it will change significantly (more musings on this in the future, I’m sure).

Now, usually, I’m not so won over by “motivational” blog posts, but given the timing, I’m compelled to share this bit of relevant wisdom which I stumbled upon today at Gigaom. On working in spite of not knowing, the author writes:

Perhaps the biggest part of it is learning to stay the course, even when the course doesn’t yet exist. There’s no path laid out ahead of you, and you’re learning to navigate as you go. Learn to keep going, in spite of not having clear directions. Create a plan you believe is most likely to succeed by studying the cues of those who have succeeded before you, but accept that you are forging a new path in many ways, so the answers may not always be immediately available.

I am now a year out from graduating from college, and from what I’ve seen, it seems many of my close friends and peers are freaking the f**k out. I’m freaking out, too — no doubt about it — but there’s a comforting solidarity in it all, this collective experience of not knowing. So be scared, freak out, cry, watch a whole lot of You’ve Got Mail, but keep on moving. If we just do that, I think we’ll be ok.

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By Jess, August 29, 2010 12:19 am

I was poised to write a thoughtful reflection on my current feelings of anxiety. But then, I saw that The Time Traveler’s Wife was on HBO. Having read the book, I knew exactly what it had to offer. I watched it, I cried, and now my inspiration has evaporated.

This is not an unusual situation for me, and I’m not altogether sure how common (or uncommon) it is. Approximately every two weeks, the faintest traces of worry manifest in my gut: worries about life in general, work, writing, not writing, family, the future, the mounting pile of dishes in the sink, everything. I brush off the feeling as it builds until, at some point, I can’t stand it. Then I seek relief — not in the more obvious choices of booze or drugs but in movies (and occasionally books and music). These are what I refer to as my “triggers,” the stimuli that coax the worry out of my system.

My ultimate go-to’s are inspiring dramas and romantic comedies, mostly movies starring Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts. I’ve watched my You’ve Got Mail DVD more times than I can count. (For me, romanticizing email correspondence is the equivalent of shirtless George Clooney or Robert Pattison).  When I moved to London for a year, I watched one of three movies virtually every week: Notting Hill, Something’s Gotta Give, and You’ve Got Mail. Most recently, I’ve discovered that Gran Torino, a dark horse of my triggers, can inspire tears as long as I tune in at least 15 minutes before the end. Impressive or terrifying? Perhaps both.

My triggers are my comfort food, and for the purpose of reading and writing more, I suppose it’s time I went on a diet of sorts. The ultimate goal would be to need no trigger at all, of course — to just react to life as it happens. But for now, I’ll settle with more books, more movies, more music and maybe a little less You’ve Got Mail. For the record, You’ve Got Mail is fantastic and the clip below captures everything I love about it.

My progress so far? This week, I subscribed to Harper’s Magazine and started reading Nora Ephron’s (coincidentally, writer/director/producer of You’ve Got Mail) 2006 memoir I Feel Bad About My Neck.

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By Jess, July 16, 2010 12:15 pm

“This Is Why I’ll Never Be An Adult” at Hyperbole and a Half sums up my daily feelings about life post-college. It’s both hilarious and frightening in how close it comes to the absolute truth.

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By Jess, March 16, 2010 11:37 pm

Though I’m a ripe 22-years-old less than a year out of college, I’ve noticed some alarming signs of aging. For example:

One year ago, I watched TV. Not only did I watch live TV, but I watched TV online. Hell, I watched bad TV online.

Now, I watch the The Rachel Maddow Show and occasionally reruns of Seinfeld. Sometimes I turn on Lost, only to find that a.) I have no idea what’s going on and b.) it gives me anxiety. Thanks to the deluxe cable package, I also watch movies I’ve already seen. In one week, I tuned in to snippits of The Reader, Schindler’s List, Blackhawk Down, and The Boy In The Striped Pajamas before realizing that I had seen three Holocaust films too many.

One year ago, sleeping in meant after noon.

Now, it means after 9AM.

One year ago, the word “splurge” applied to shoes, t-shirts, concert tickets, and similar items.

Now, it means buying meat at the grocery store.

One year ago, going out meant pre-gaming at the house and leaving by 11PM.

Now, it means having an after-work beer and getting home before 11PM.