The Clichéd Twenty-Something...Am I?

As I begin to type this, I am almost afraid to put what I have on my mind in writing...like what I want to say is somehow akin to Lance Armstrong telling Oprah that he is a big fat fraud.

Or like that time I pretended I could snowboard and kept getting invited to go snowboarding until I eventually had to say, "welp...ya see...I haven't gone in so long...I'd probably have to start back at square one...sooo...."

It's not that I'm hiding anything, really. On some level I know that the uncertainty, anxiousness, and sense of "limbo" I feel is completely normal and acceptable. On that same note, I fear sometimes that I will get..."caught" (for lack of a better word)? Caught trying to figure out where I am and where I'm supposed to be...whilst in the middle of something else...something all-consuming (a good old J-O-B). What if someone who is a big deal stumbles upon this infamous blog and misinterprets it with a disgruntled, "This girl! Hmph, this girl...this girl does not want to be here!" Au contraire, my friends (saying something in French makes it more legitimate, ja? Whoops, ci? Ah, au revoir...) I have worked hard to get where I am and will continue working my caboose off.

Allow me to reiterate: I am dedicated in everything I do (regardless of its rating on the enjoyability scale). Many of us share in this sentiment, I imagine. Even if what I am doing isn't currently unraveling the career/life development I seek....even if it isn't spurring spontaneous bits of passion deep in my core...passion that radiates through my entire system, engulfing my very being in "work" that is so inspiring that it is no longer considered "work" ... I still want to succeed, excel, grow...you know, the works. And maybe I am right where I should be, but just haven't let myself realize it yet. Having said that, maybe I am just being a dreaded, clichéd twenty-something...but I sure hope not.

It's just that sometimes I feel like this is what I am doing:

So there is a little background, and here is a little foreground: I am in business. And I mean let's face it, I am literally an International Business Machine. I have a great job. A job I am honored to have. I am surrounded by some of the smartest and most diverse people out there--something that it is both intriguing and refreshing. Moreover, the opportunities at my fingertips and people that I work with are both intellectually and personally stimulating...and often very rewarding.

BUT (you knew there had to be some sort of "but" here...), sometimes I just get this ache. Like this pulsating pang in the back of my belly (is there a back to one's belly? If not it's just somewhere in there...behind a few organs and between a few bones...) This feeling of...shame almost? Not shame in the sense that I am copping out by taking a "practical route" as opposed to chasing "my dreams," but shame in the sense that I have always been too scared, or maybe just too lazy, to figure out what those dreams are...what it is that makes me want to jump up and down, spontaneously break out into the Thriller dance, hug a stranger, pour Gatorade all over myself (because I am a WINNER dammit), and various other things that I imagine come with finding one's niche. What moves me mentally to be a better person, what moves me physically onto the next phase, what moves me emotionally to be a mother-effing butterfly exploding out of a cocoon? Because let me tell you, if I am in a cocoon (which I very well may be after re-reading what I just wrote), if I ever figure out the exit code, I am going to erupt out of that sucker in a Hulk-eqsue fashion. Why don't I know what the heck I dream of? 

**And no, I don't mean dreams like the one I had last night in which I was presenting a "Golden Eye" award to Daniel Craig at the Golden Globes. But seriously--had that dream and am mind blown by the intricacies of it. I mean at first I woke up thinking, ah, Golden Globes were just on, and a Golden Eye award at the Golden Globes, how clever...and to Mr. Craig because his eyes are just oh so very dreamy. And then I though OMG...GOLDENEYE! BOND!  Whoa. Anywho. **

This relates to the above sentiments about things often feeling rewarding...but then also emitting quite a few "oy vays" and feelings of unease at the same time.

For instance, one moment could feel like this:

And then the very next moment can feel like this:

Office/cubicle life in general has been known to drive people to extremes (both big and small). Little sunlight, dry air, hot air, collective sneezes and coughs...these have been known to lead to some extreme behavior. For instance, behavior such as unconventional attachment to inanimate objects...

Or irrational anger toward inanimate objects...

Don't get me wrong. I really am learning so much. And I really do feel very grateful. And proud. And I am loving the opportunity to be learning at all, really. And honestly, what I most love learning about right now is people. I am working with so many of 'em. So many wildly different people. I am learning to communicate, cooperate, comically commiserate. We toss around buzzwords like "bandwidth," "due diligence," "utilization," and "billable hours..." and we also say things like "oy vay," "bah humbug," and "oof" quite a bit. But the people I am meeting, the relationships I am building, and the sheer diversity of the people around me everyday is truly fulfilling and salvages even the worst of days. Moreover, I feel like those kinds of "learnings" and "experiences" are far too often overlooked. Learning to interact and work with anyone and everyone is an underrated intangible.

So having said all of that, I can sit around, continuously over-think, type furiously, and succumb to the status quo...or I can grow a pair and push myself to diagnose that ache...to learn so much that I am literally forced to find my passion...to keep on truckin' until it is launched into my face...like a shoe...

I realize that this (well, all of THAT above...) is a whole lotta talk. I know that. The "walk" portion is yet to come. And as much as I love to run, I'm going to try to take my time with this one (a little). Maybe a light jog so that I am not wasting time, but also not rushing into the wrong direction and adding unnecessary mileage. And I also realize that all of this hullabaloo, hooplah, melodrama, etc. is not unique to me. So maybe I just need to get over myself for a hot second. I mean, life is pretty damn good, after all.

I suppose the only way to not be a clichéd twenty-something is to...not be a clichéd twenty-something (ala Fight Club...? Nah, I guess not really...but I have been told I throw a mean jab).