existential angst

This weekend, I had the opportunity to hang out with two of my favourite cousins. We were watching Korean soap operas and doing laundry and here was an almost-40-year-old mother-of-two, an almost-30-year-old new mother, and me, the token 20-something. And it was cool, because I've known these wonderful women since I was born, and suddenly, it's like I can finally talk to them and understand their perspective more than I ever could have before. Not to say that I know what it's like to be a mother or almost-40, but as we asymptotically reach that same age*, I find myself thinking of what it would be to be their age, rather than dismissing it as a time far removed from me.

Anyway, almost-30-year-old new mother said something that struck me. "I'm glad my 20s are almost over. In the 20s, there's too much existential angst." Everyone I know who has turned 30 ended up getting a funky new haircut or a new bf/gf or a new apartment, etc. The point is that they seem to be coping with the end of their 20s rather than celebrating.

So now, in this light, how do I perceive my 20s? I'm still early on, but I am certainly existentially angsty. The 20s are supposed to be a time of new independence and identity! A time to be young and reckless! A time to try new things and be fearless! They're all the same thing, right? We just use different words when it's fun or when it's annoying.

Oy vey. I'm already tired. I wish I was old already.



*I think we should age on a logarithmic scale, where as you get older, you age less. This way we can numerically reflect the fact that a 5-year old is much older than a 4-year old, but a 75-year old is not much older than a 74-year old.