(welp…guess, I’m almost to 30 now.)

Hezah, 27

It’s now just past midnight and I am no longer 26, which marks the end of what is commonly referred to as the “mid-twenties.” I am the newest member of the Late Twenties Club. 

I just got home from lovely day full of crepes, comedy, and bbq with new friends. I love how the Internet can make your life seem far more fancy than it truly is with one sentence. While those things really happened, I am also spending my last minutes in bed with my boyfriend, watching the Boy Meets World DVD’s he thoughtfully gave me for my birthday. People usually omit that part from their overly optimistic online updates.

I didn’t think I would be, but I am perfectly content with falling asleep far too early, in really old sweats, watching a 90’s sitcom. I might be passed the point where I need to ring in my next year of life with shots. Not opposed to them, but no longer needed.

I think it’s time for me to abandon most of the remnants of the recklessness (Never get rid of this entirely, or you’re really become a boring sad sack. Rather save a sliver for a rainy day.) of my early twenties, and start embracing responsibility instead of making excuses. This birthday feels a bit like a transition; perhaps it’s because I’m in such a different place turning 27 than 26. 

Birthdays cause me to be even more introspective than I already am, and I can’t help but think about what has happened in one whole year.

• Acquired new furniture.
• Properly mourned an old relationship.
• Found a new relationship.
• Happier, Heavier, Healthier.
• Received a promotion at work.
• Making just a little more money.
• Figured out my finances….(somewhat)
• Made new friends.
• Visited new places.
• Made more of an effort with my family and friends.
• Bought way too many clothes.
• Rediscovered my writing.
• Dated a handful of weirdos.
• Became much more comfortable with myself than ever before.

You know, I did all this and only broke one bowl. I realized I started this blog right after my 25th birthday, and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Thinking about 25 is like looking down a long dark tunnel. I’ve come a long way, and I think I might be seeing the light.

It’s easy to be hard on yourself, and hard to be proud. But, today is my special fucking day, so I choose to be proud of the old woman I have become.

Hezah, 26

I don’t balance my checkbook (even if I knew where it was hiding.) I ritualistically tear up my credit card statements. I never know how much cash is wadded up and stuffed into my wallet. I frequently borrow money from my savings with an honest yet laughable intent on paying myself back. I can rationalize any purchase or decision with these two justifications, “you’re only young once,” and “that’s what credit cards are for.”

Hi, my name is Heather, and I have a problem.

With my twenty-seventh birthday looming just around the corner, I am crippled with panic as the gap between me and the dirty thirty closes. I know, everyone preaches that your thirties are much better than your twenties, and I believe them because life can only move upward from these awkward terrible twenty something years. That said I would feel more comfortable embarking on what I assume to be adulthood with something to show for myself. 

I have already written about feeling out of control with my money, but I finally did something about it. A couple weeks ago, I had a somewhat voluntary financial come to Jesus with myself. My company graciously offered up two informational finance sessions and 15 minute individual sessions with a financial planner to discuss 401k plans. As I signed my name after the 2pm time slot, I felt like an absentee dental patient holding a stack of reminder postcards, finally biting the bullet and making an appointment. I just knew I had a fiscal cavity; repair was going to be excruciating and expensive.

This is was the beginning of the painful twenty minutes that changed my life. Sitting in that chair across from the finance expert was not unlike a routine visit to the gynecologist, being asked very personal questions that cause discomfort answering with the entire truth. What does my budget look like now? Kind of like this:

My budget is currently based on sunshine, hipsters and cotton candy.

I don’t know if it counts as a bonafied budget or not, but my monthly financial routine basically includes cringing with fear as I haphazardly log into my accounts online twice a month to check on my spending habits. I often pay pitiful lumps towards my credit card, or transfer the $50 I have automatically sent to my savings back to my checking.

This seems pathetic to me as I write this, and definitely something I didn’t want to admit to a professional, even if she just wanted to help me get better. However, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Like I said earlier, I have a problem, but I sought help.

Not everyone’s job provides a Mother Teresa-esque patron saint of financially wayward girls, so here are some takeaways that will benefit every twenty-something.

·        Calculate how much you actually spend on fixed expenses.

Your first step is to calculate monthly fixed costs. Once I had added up things like rent, cable, car insurance, I moved on to estimating weekly groceries and gas. After subtracting that sum from my total monthly income, I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. I had an astounding amount of funds leftover. In fact, I was forced to realize that I waste almost $20,000 a year with nothing to show for it. I had come to the church of savings, and that statistic was enough to make me a convert.

·        Create a monthly budget centered on saving and NOT spending.

This was my biggest problem. In my head, there was no specific dollar amount to save each month. I figured that I would just save a portion of what I had left over each month. Hmm…oddly enough, I never had any money left over to save. Instead, calculate a dollar amount you are comfortable parting with each month, and set up an automatic transfer to your savings right around the time you get paid; you’ll never know it was there.

·        Decide on a dollar amount goal for your savings.

If you want a real motivator, set goals for your saving plan. How much do you want to save, and in how much time? A good place to start is to create an emergency fund, which should add up to six months’ worth of living expenses. This should really be your primary focus. Once the goal is achieved, you can really start delving deeper into long and short term options.

·        Bucket your money.

Don’t keep your money all in one place, i.e. your easily accessible checking account. Open an IRA, a money market, start a stock portfolio, and create a savings you can’t touch. From there decide if you want a separate savings for leisure, vacation, or next year’s Coachella tickets.

·        Don’t worry about credit cards.

My father yells at me about only one thing: credit cards. Despite that fact, I still have one or two. I used these balances as an excuse not to save money, rationalizing that it was more important to use excess money to pay off my credit debt than to let it sit in my savings. After years living with this mindset, I have an embarrassing savings, and miraculously, my debt remains a constant. You should still be saving as much as you can; the balance will eventually be paid. Dedicate bonuses, tax returns, and other windfall cash to the CC Cause.

·        Use helpful tools and resources.

Sign up for Mint.com for a super easy way to budget your money. Getting in the habit of tracking your every transaction will keep yourself in check, and even feed a growing addiction to frugality. If you are a little old fashioned, use excel charts or your checking book as a reminder of how fluid money can be. Of course, there are always those old people whose calls you keep screening. Chances are your parents know a thing or two about finances and will gladly provide guidance.

·        Keep living in the present, but thinking about the future.

Just because you’ve decided to save doesn’t have to mean becoming a shut-in. Have fun and enjoy your money. We have the smallest window to make money without responsibilities beyond rent and feeding yourself. Live your life to its fullest, just stay within your means. You can still accidentally spend way too much on a bar tab next Saturday night, as long as you’re storing up for a rainy day. The older you get the more you have to save for retirement, so start now, while you can start small.

After having my mind reset, I thanked the woman for taking the time to go above and beyond 401ks (apparently I am not ready to even think about those until I beef up my savings) with me. After extending my hand for a friendly shake, she admitted that she felt like she wanted to hug me. I brought her in for an embrace. Not going to lie, it was pretty cathartic. Turns out, by the end of my financial physical, I wasn’t a total charity case, but like a heart attack survivor, I was in definite needed of a wakeup call. 

Abbey, age 29

It’s a Monday, (seriously, it’s only Monday?) evening as I stand here, hunched over my you-could-hardly-call-it-an-‘island,’ in the galley kitchen of my modest Congress Park apartment, as I eat Mediterranean takeout while paging through the newest delivery of the J.Crew catalogue and watching an old episode of Lost on Netflix Instant. After this day, one glass of wine didn’t quite take the edge off, even though it was the last glass from a ridiculously delicious bottle of Sauvignon that came direct-shipped from my favorite winery after my recent and quite possibly hasty decision to join its Membership Club. Before the snap judgment, glass #2 is a luke-warm random White, from a box, that is now quick chilling in my freezer, should I decide a glass #3 is warranted.

While I rather wish I weren’t, I’m also getting caught up on work emails, creating a Branded Materials Priority Timeline to keep my graphic designer on deadline and my team on track, plotting how best to address the conversation needing to take place with my CEO tomorrow regarding his pet project and some ill-performing team members, and deciding whether or not I’ll have it in me to get to the stack of resumes awaiting my review.

Let’s take a step back. One week ago, I turned 29. All of the previous 20-something transition – wings-spread-wide and new-city bound a few times over, anticipating that the next step I was taking would actually begin my ‘career’ … my grown-up life – and the point at which I could effortlessly pay my bills and not consider my most depressing, bi-weekly financial moment to involve a trip to Whole Foods. Yet each step prior turned out to be a sort of cruel joke filled with semi-sad (read: pathetic) bosses, even sadder salaries and in total, the only-somewhat patience for when my seemingly put-together future might arrive. To my now most recent evolution, at this stage in my career where I find myself in a legitimate position, valued in my role by those who matter, and compensated fairly for all the effort behind it. Once again, before the snap judgment, this is finally a significant, albeit somewhat overwhelming step. And even more so why I find my life a conundrum.  

I look around my rented apartment and as I wonder if it’s pathetic that I don’t yet own, I remind myself that I fought the responsibility of commitment (in every sense of the word) for … well, now, nearly the span of my 20s. It’s filled with a hybrid of ‘post-college’ and ‘striving for adult’ interior fill: a wicked comfortable couch that I’m almost in the clear on, offset by a few gently-worn pieces from Ikea via my Beantown transplant roadtrip; a TV most often mistaken for a computer screen that was once my most-prized purchase, connected to a speaker system that multiplies its value by 5; a closet that on one side bears a collection of wears that, in total, equals the other side of the few most recent purchases combined with the two newest pairs of shoes; this the source of a sometimes cleverly layered outfit that I don pre-walk every morning to the car I’ve driven since 2003, which now bears only one side mirror and some unattractive body damage, and offers a broken trunk and an accelerator issue that has yet to be defined because I procrastinate taking it into the shop while crossing my fingers that I won’t rear end the car ahead on my daily commute out. I host dinner parties on Mondays and yet when pressured to go out on weekends, opt for casual get-togethers at dive bars. I’ll spend $50 on delivery if I’m really craving sushi but I complain that a $10 salad from the office building deli is just plain insane. I have a $500 bike on my wishlist that is beyond my riding capacity and I bitch about spending $49 on a tank of gas. Thankfully, I’m only followed around by two felines that constantly vie for my attention when I could have my neighbor’s life, trying to translate a rugrat’s screaming and crying at all hours for god-knows what reason.

The long and short of it, I’ve begun to realize, is that it’s all about perspective. While at present, we find discomfort (and humor) in our fruitless attempts at adulthood, we can find comfort in that regardless of what age we become, we’ll very likely still find those common few, at least those who are honest with themselves, also admitting that we’ve all yet to have it figured out. In nearly my third decade, it’s becoming ever-more evident that we’ll be in a cyclical I’m-pushing-through-this-to-reach-that contradiction at 20-something, 30-something, 40-something or more.  Perhaps just a bit less cynical about it as time goes on.

Hezah and Friend, 26

What did people do at work before chat? Perhaps there is a serious lack of daydreaming in the workplace these days.

Typical workday musings on life:

Friend: i think she puts a lot of pressure on herself to have a grown up life now

Me: that sounds about right

Friend: im glad i missed THAT boat

Me: yeah, never had that urge

 Friend: i probably did at some point, but the idea of speeding up the growing up process is so not attractive right now

 Me: no me neither, i feel like i can see it on the distant horizon more so than i could before, but i am in no means in a rush to get there

Friend: i think thats why, its coming round the bend real fast

Me: yup i agree

Hezah, and Friend 26 (creepin’ on 27)

Guess what…feelings don’t get ANY easier as you get older. Maybe it becomes easier to let the words tumble out of your mouth. But having them? FEELING those feelings…it’s still rough.

Friend: well yea, all your feelings are in a box deep in the back of a closet
Friend: mine are coming out of my orifices all the time
Me: mine is a plaid felt box
Me: with leather buckles
Friend: haha that can keep it shut REALLY tight
Me: REAAAALLLY tight
Friend: mine is an overused net with a lot of holes in it
Me: i’ve been really good lately, as far as saying when i am upset and why
Me: i still do it like a 6 year old
Me: but its progress
Me: i mostly need to be in some version of fetal position
Me: and maybe doing a hard lean into the other person
Friend: i think i need someone to ask me what my problem is
Friend: and then im good to explode
Me: i need someone to probe me the whole time, eeking out pieces until its enough for them to tell me whats wrong with me
Me: and then i nod my head yes or no
Friend: we’re fucked  

Hezah, 26

The other day, my girlfriends and I were trying to think of all the movies we’ve seen a million times. The movies that have stood the test of time, the ones that never fail to make us feel good. From the ultimate guilty pleasure to undeniable classics, there are movies that make us feel compelled to stop and watch (or record) when their titles pop up on TBS or USA. 

We all agreed on Bridget Jone’s Diary, Sleepless in Seattle, 10 Thing I Hate About You, and Can’t Hardly Wait. What about Fried Green Tomatoes, The Cutting Edge, Empire Records, When Harry Met Sally, She’s All That, and Never Been Kissed. The list goes on and on.

THIS JUST HAPPENED:

Hezah, 26

I think it hit me that I am old. I recently performed a spiritually cleansing closet purge in which I finally rid my wardrobe of the incriminating remnants from 2008-2010. The majority of the pile included plaid shirt dresses and weird faux pregnant billowy tops with umpire waists. Oh God…even jumpers. The HORROR.

Anyway, I finally faced my denim drawer piled with haphazardly folded jeans. The time had come for me to “be real” with myself…I’m never fitting into those size 0 jeans again. 

“But…maybe, if you just…work out more? Cut down to one meal a day”

Shut it Heather. You’re 22 year old waist is toast. (That was my metabolism chiming in.) It’s true; I was holding onto these two hundred dollar low rise, skin tight, size 25 pants in the hopes that one day I would be able to pull them up (3/4 of the way would do) over my ass. 

I was forced to have a “Come to Jesus” with my hips and put the sad designer denim in the bag of lost cotton dreams. But, I realized a few important things.

1. I was never getting into those pants again. The last time I was able to shimmy into my thighs into the legs, I was a pool creeper by day, a cocktail waitress by evening, and a dive bar junkie by night. Sometimes I even ate a meal. My lifestyle, meal schedule, and hips have all expanded since then.

2. Even if I did fit into these pants, I’m not sure I wanted to wear them any more. I don’t think anyone at the office would appreciate the ass crack inducing low rise waist. They were honestly inappropriate for my near late-twenty something self, and I wasn’t going to be that bitch my friends submit to What Not to Wear. I had outgrown these jeans in more than one way, and I wasn’t as depressed as expected.

3. My metabolism is going to shit.

With my 27th birthday looming, I can’t help but stop and think about how my body is changing without my knowledge (or consent!) It takes me less time to put on pounds, more time to lose them, and two drinks give me a hangover. Less than six hours of sleep renders me useless, and I’m fairly certain my taste buds are dying because I can tolerate seafood now. 

I better invest in some Metamucil and water aerobics STAT.

Hezah, 26

So I just joined a new gym, and I couldn’t be happier. I am of the belief that I actually felt the moment my metabolism came to a screeching halt on my 25th birthday. It was right after I ate vodka and cupcakes as my celebratory dinner.

As such, my fitness habits ebb and flow like the sea. I have high peaks of outright gym rat performance, to deep valley lows that consist of almost impressive couch potatoage. After feeling like it was a little too difficult to smush my ass into my skinny jeans, I decided it was time to get back in action.

This past Tuesday I went to my first cycling class at my new gym, with my brand new cycling shoes (I was on a spending spree masking itself as an investment in my physical well being.) that took me no less than 10-15 minutes to clip into the bike. My distinguished older gay man teacher boisterously called me out on my inept behavior in front of the class…using his American Idol caliber microphone. 

Afterwards I thanked him for the class, and his failed attempt at helping me with my shoes. He encouraged me to sign up for his mailing list. Why not?

Boy am I glad I did.

Sweet baby Jesus. What have I gotten myself into…

Hezah, 26

Just your average twenty-something night. I made a trip to the market, expecting to live a monk’s life of frugality. I need to pinch some pennies this month, so what better way than to buy less food and force yourself to Mother Hubbard the shit outta your cupboards?

I completely failed, and ended up spending THE SAME amount on groceries as I do every week. To make matters worse, when I got home, I realized how much I over-indulged. I really should make a grocery list, but instead I made a list of men.

My good friend started a video chat with me as I was putting away the groceries of shame, so I moved my laptop into the kitchen.

Somewhere between me shoving my face with crackers (still standing up in my kitchen like a strangely efficient home office) she brought up that she still didn’t know her NUMBER. She had mentioned this absence of info a couple weeks prior, and I just couldn’t believe it. How could you not know??

She resolved to break it down, as she began rattling off names. She paused and said,

“I really should write this down.”

“No ______, allow me. Have a moment of free thought, and I will transcribe.”

The result is the list you see above.

As you creep into your mid to late twenties, the sex toll begins to rise and self awareness sets in deep. In your early twenties, you pray for that number to shoot through the roof. You want to be seen a sex GOD on campus.

As we move through life and toss old lovers aside like clothes we’ve outgrown, your “number” becomes increasingly weighty, on either end of the spectrum. Too little. Too many. Just enough? Is there such a thing?

Getting into a new relationship there is fear that you haven’t had enough experience, or apprehension that you’ve been overtly flagrant with your body. The baggage grows with shame of too many one night stands, or allowing a relationship wear too thin. We’re all so concerned about being condemned by new partners and even society in general. At the end of the day, you’re really only facing your own judgement, which is completely silly.

Everyone has a different journey, and yours is uniquely yours no matter how many partners you’ve taken along the way. Anyone worthy of your time won’t care who is in your past. So leave them all there where they belong, like Dorothy left the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion in Oz…but I always recommend taking the sparkly shoes with you.

Trent, 24

A while back, I saw the submission someone else posted which included the NY Times article, “What is it about 20-somethings?” Well, when I read that article, I immediately became very irate. It’s not fair to pick on a generation going through difficult times like ours. We aren’t perfect, and we never said we were.

I’ve seen the older generation who wonder what is wrong with the new 20-something generation. Why are we still at home? Why are we so unproductive? Why are we more concerned with facebook than getting a Masters?

Well, it doesn’t take an analyst or psychologist to see why. We are the generation of “you don’t need to know what you want to do with the rest of your life, even in college!”

Let me tell you something; the world as it is today is not the same world it used to be. The cost of living is much higher, your student loans take much longer to pay off, and there are no jobs…anywhere. I don’t mean to excuse or make excuses for my generation, yes there are those of us who simply appear as though we consider our social life more important, or hide in our rooms and shut ourselves away. Look harder. There are deeper issues there. Love us now, because we need you the most, now more than ever.

But I don’t mean to steal the thunder of the last person who wrote about this article. I just wanted to throw my two cents in. Really, my goal today was to give advice… Things I’ve learned since turning 20, things I wish someone had told me.

20-somethings – it’s a rough world out there. Though I am only 24, I’ve learned a lot in a short span of time, that I wish I had known when it applied to me. It’s not too late for me, and never too late for you. Take my 10 tips, and hold them close. I wish I had not been too stubborn to see these.

Albert Einstein said, “Learn from yesterday, Live for today, Hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” It’s about time we started learning and living for ourselves.

Tidbits of knowledge I have gained since turning 20:

1.      Never stop exercising. Believe it or not, a college campus is HUGE and you walk over 1 – 2 miles per day getting to class. Once you lose that momentum, not only do you gain the weight from all those pizzas and burgers, you lose incentive to lose it. I hate telling people “there was a time I used to bike ride 6 days a week.”

2.      Go to grad school after college. That “break” you dream of will taste so much sweeter when there’s a job offer trailing it.

3.      Figure out what you want now, and stop listening to those who tell you “you don’t have to know what you want yet!” Keep listening, keep daydreaming, and you’ll find yourself where I am: a graduate without a clue.

4.      Is grad school not your thing? Do Peace Corps, City Year, Americorps, Language Corps, anything to get you out of the house and on your own. I guarantee you’ll make new friends, see new places, and most of all – your parents will not be your roommates for the next few years. Once you gain that sense of independence, you’ll do anything to hold onto it – great.

5.      Still don’t want to go to grad school or the Peace Corps? Then have a job lined up before you graduate, or spend the next 1 – 2 years sitting in your parent’s house.

6.      It’s never too late if you know what you want.

7.      Fall in love, but don’t let it control your everyday life, your every thought, your very existence. Set boundaries, retain your independence, but don’t be afraid to love and appreciate them.

8.      Don’t let video games take over your life. They will still be around when you graduate, and shouldn’t be the only thing keeping you going.

9.      Friends come and go like seasons, there when you need them, gone when that hardship in your life passes. Don’t forget to love and appreciate the family who supported you and helped make you who you are today, the same family who is not ashamed to take you in if you mess up. Appreciate the friends who stay in your life once college passes; hold tight to those people. They are like a second family; they don’t care who you are or where you’ve been, they’re just happy to be your friend.

10.   It. Gets. Better. So I hear from older people. Don’t wait for it to come to you, run toward it yourself.