Why You Should Love Being "Of a Certain Age"

Last night I stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home to pick up some chocolate-covered chocolate dinner and happened to overhear a conversation between a sullen customer and a teenage cashier. Said customer (who was actually kind of good-looking, and no, I had not been stalking him since the produce section) hung his head and bemoaned the fact that he was 28. "Almost 30," he groaned, just in case the young cashier hadn't clued in on how very ancient he was. "Dude, play sports while you can," Mr. Glum advised the TJ employee. "At my age, I can barely play basketball without busting a hamstring." I can only imagine how this guy will spend his 30th birthday - likely holed up in a windowless room, gently rocking himself to a looped shuffle of the Top Hits of 1997.

The guy's depression got me thinking. Like our dear Mr.Glum, I am 28 years of age, and I have begun to get some grief about not being a "spring chicken" (ironically, always from friends and family older than me). Last week my friend Jacob snorted when I said something about still being young. My grandmother seems to think all of my ova have already shriveled up and died.

I may be so old that I remember when moustaches were mainstream and not just for hipsters and old Polish guys, but y'know what? I'm not upset about being in the twilight of my twenties. Here are five reasons I don't mind the fact that my cells have started the decaying process:

1. I love being a grown-up because I get to make my own choices in life.
Pro: Now you can get that pack of miniature chinchillas you always wanted. 
Con: Now you have to pay the bills AND pick up chinchilla poop.

2. Yay! I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want!
Pro: You can stay up till 3 am gorging yourself on M&Ms and cheezy poofs with no consequences (except maybe type 2 diabetes and monster thighs).
Con: You may discover you like cauliflower, after all. Which just means you're old.

3. I am older and wiser.
Pro: You have perfected the subtle "very-busy-must-cross-the-street" move for when you sense the proximity of a suspicious individual, homeless person or non-profit fundraiser.
Con: You have to live knowing that Santa Claus and The Bachelor aren't real.

4. My immune system has never been stronger.
Pro: You don't have to worry about catching a runny nose at school every week.
Con: You get to worry about STDs and cancer!

5. I don't get acne anymore.
Actually, that's a total lie. No fair! I was TOLD it would be gone by now!


So no need to break out the black balloons and over-the-hill napkins. But on my 30th please stop by and make sure I'm not sitting alone at home, clutching My Little Ponies for dear life, eating Kids Cuisine and watching reruns of Nickelodeon game shows.

The People are the Story

The other day I finished The Leftovers by Tom Perrotta. I haven't read a purely character-driven novel in a good while, and the introspection this book offered into the lives of everyday people in a post-crisis Suburbia was pretty interesting. It's amazing how Perrotta took very ordinary people and made their simple lives so addictive to follow.

The last in-depth character study I read was A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. The concept of the book is very different from Leftovers, but the characters were studied in a similar bleak light. What struck me about the two books was how Perrotta required very little fodder to create memorable people, whereas Egan's plot was driven by the complexities of unbelievably quirky characters.

The lesson I took from Leftovers is this: if your writing is compelling enough, you don't need to embellish your characters. Let your plot's circumstances bring out the best and worst in normal people, and you will have a more convincing story.

The Family Shtick

Are you familiar with the family reunion blues? Everyone has a reason to dread intimate family gatherings. My mother, for instance, just crosses her fingers and prays my drunken grandfather and uncle don't decide to pull out a shotgun and start aiming at raccoons. My personal elephant in the room is the topic of my job.

I admit I've been a little all over the place when it comes to my career (That's the understatement of the year, my smart-ass 12-year old self would have smirked). I bounce around different projects, all the while trying to find the one that will grab my attention and keep it permanently.

Most people don't get this philosophy of trying things out to see how they fit. To my family, a "career" is a tenure-track position you get straight out of college, preferably at a mega-corporation that offers great benefits. My 90-year old (paternal) grandfather, a former engineer for Lockheed Martin, recently sat me down and very seriously told me that I need to look for a position as "a secretary for some executive at a company that does international business and all that." I'm choosing not to take the secretary suggestion personally.

I will admit I haven't been the most diligent in my job search for the past few weeks. Ok, so I've applied to two jobs in a month. Don't judge me. Through the holidays and the multiple birthday party month of January, my magazine editor shtick has eroded. My response to the dreaded question - "So Brooke, what are you doing with yourself these days?" - now pretty much comes out as a tiny little ant-sized squeak.

Thanksgiving: "I'm interning at a magazine. Loving every minute! Productive! Busy busy!" Accompanied by song, dance, shining eyes, big band.

Christmas: "Well, the internship is over. I will totally find an editor position soon. After the holidays. For sure."

Mid-January birthday bash: "Um, yeah, totally looking for a job. Wow, this cheese dip is faaaaabulous!"

Well-meaning relatives have so many suggestions. "So you want to be an editor now?" (Did I imagine that hint of an eye roll, or am I just paranoid?) "Where are you looking? Have you tried National Geographic?" 

Yes, actually, National Geographic and Vogue and Time are all banging down my door, begging for me to please accept the lowly chore of being their new editor-in-chief. I had to turn them down to accept the position of Dean of Harvard. Before I run for president.

Perhaps I should be encouraged by my family's faith in me. So why am I hiding out, pretending to be out of the country for the next decade?