Definition: Twentysomething

I've had a lot of conversations lately where people I haven't seen in a while stop talking. They look at me. They squint. Then they go, "You're not in college anymore, are you?"

Nope, Toto. Not in college anymore. 

In fact, I've passed the 1-year mark since college graduation. I have over 12 months of experience living in the "real world." And the topic of twentysomethings, "boomerang kids," and the new, extended adolescence keeps coming up in conversation. Adults of the last generation often shake their heads when I tell them I'm living at home, cobbling together freelance English work. "That's not how it was when I was growing up," they say. "Kids moved out to go to college and never came back." 

And we twentysomethings look at each other in desperate frustration. 

The thing is, we've been handed a different world than the one our parents grew up in. With digital technology making many human-powered industries obsolete and a global economy that's in the tank, many of the jobs our parents inherited no longer exist. Opportunity has looked in the mirror and found itself slimmer. 

Life between college graduation and age 30 has always been fraught with decisions. But in this day and age, it's even more charged with expectations and anxiety. Being a twentysomething can feel like setting out on a cross-country roadtrip with only a city map (or spotty satellite signal, if you take your GPS). You're young, a little stupid, pretty naive, and doing ping-pong between immense enthusiasm and deflating depression. Most of your life experience comes from hearsay. And yet the decisions in these pivotal years set the course for the rest of your life. I find this quotation by Soren Kierkegaard, Danish theologian and one of my most-admired authors, very true: "Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forward." 

This is the time when soap-bubble dreams, spacious and unlimited, start to pop or settle down into the more tangible, more limited suds of reality. To choose your life's course, you want to be a little informed about what you're supposed to be doing here...what life is about...how to be happy and find meaning on a road that can feel confusing, dangerous, and sometimes disappointing. 

So what do you do with a time when it feels like you're blindly charting the course for the rest of your life? 

Meg Jay, a clinical psychologist writing for the LA Times, pounces on this decade of frustration and anxiety to scold twentysomethings for not growing up at a satisfactory pace (you can read the whole article here). Stop acting like kids and start passing the milestones that will make you an adult, she says.

And what are those milestones? "Make money, get married, buy a house, go to graduate school, start a business, save for college and retirement, and have children." 

So life is about making money and wearing a ring on your left hand? Whoops. 

An article by economist John Kay paints quite a different picture of purpose (read it here). Forget racking up a fat bank account or having 10 kids. He says that happiness is reached only by a principle he terms "obliquity." It's like looking at faint stars: when you aim your eyes directly at them, they disappear from your vision. But when you look just to the side, focusing on something else, you can see them quite clearly. 

Kay quotes John Stuart Mill in saying that “aiming thus at something else, [happy people] arrive at happiness along the way." To be happy, to enjoy this space of years we are granted, we need to not make "being happy" our goal. We must aim at something bigger than ourselves, bigger than our finances, our relationships, our legacies, in order to truly hit on what matters, what will satisfy the big, dark, frustrated hole inside most twentysomethings. 

Not that finding love or having a savings account can't be part of that bigger goal. I caught an episode of the show "Secret Millionaire" last night and was inspired to see the enormous power for good in the hands of people blessed with wealth. But buying a house and saving for retirement aren't like the hokey-pokey: they're not what it's all about. 

Kind of a paradox, isn't it? In order to really be satisfied with life, we have to lose ourselves in working for something bigger. We're whole only in self-forgetfulness. Jesus said almost just that: "Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." 

So yes, I'm a twentysomething, a year out of college, still living at home, learning how to make a living by my pen. But ask me what I'm doing that's bigger than myself. Who knows? I might even ask you the same question. 

Flying Books

Well, I've got my nose to the grindstone in the midst of book-writing, proofreading, and tutoring, so today this video is going to do the talking for me :) 

This animated movie, produced by Moonbot Studios, won the Academy Award for Best Short Film. It's entitled The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore. Moonbot's website describes it as "a love letter to books...about the curative power of story." 

Interesting, because it's wordless. 

Enjoy!

What do you think? How did you react to this film?

Cracks in the Floor

Last Thursday I went hiking with one of my dearest friends. We have a favorite trail that takes us through four miles of hill country, but the highlight is the lake at the halfway point. Jade-green and hidden by hills until you're almost on top of it, it's always a spectacular sight, like a snippet of the Amazon in California.

This time, though, there was something extra-special about it. A whole flock of seagulls (inexplicably far from the sea) was camping out on the water. Then, as one body, the flock rose into the air, fluttering on wings that "gleam and dart," as W.B. Yeats would have it. Moving like an airborne whirlpool, they formed a column of light and air over the lake. Something about that moment--the surprise sight of so many birds in an unexpected place, their movement in perfect unity, the way their half-translucent wings caught the light--was unspeakable. It was like a glimpse of the Old Testament's pillar of cloud, the visible presence of God that guided the wandering Israelites through the desert.

The sight got me thinking about such moments, moments that jump the gap between heaven and earth. Life here isn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. The road is peppered with suffering, unfairness, betrayal, fallings-short. But more than any rational argument or logical progression, it's beautiful moments like these that make me certain that there is a God--a God of tenderness, breathtaking beauty, and an astounding imagination. C.S. Lewis called these moments "joy." I like to think of them as cracks in the floor of heaven.

I caught sight of another one the weekend before. I spent the weekend in Seattle, driving down to the Portland area for the wedding of a former roommate and dear friend. Though there was a lot of preparation and clean-up work involved, when all the cheese cubes were arranged and the dozens of chairs unfolded, the wedding was beautiful. One of the things the bride and groom did during the ceremony was braid a three-stranded cord to symbolize the intertwining of their lives with each other and with God. Watching a friend step out in love and faith to make a decision that will last a lifetime, transforming before my eyes from an individual into a couple bound together for life was one of those moments that was piercing in its shock, its newness, and its beauty. 

That continued as they danced their first dance, sometimes uncertain in the steps, but completely oblivious as they rocked in their own world. Human love is one of those mysteries that leaves us curious, wondering, and feeling the eternal echoes reverberating within. Clearer even than a swirl of white birds over a hidden lake, it's one of those things that stops us in our tracks and hushes our words. Those moments are enveloped in bubbles, untouched by the incompletenesses and disappointments life can bring. They make us pause, look up, and catch a glimpse of light sparkling through the cracks overhead.

What cracks in heaven's floor have you caught sight of lately? 

In His Own Words: Albert Einstein

Since I'm in Seattle today, this post is short. But with Einstein, short is relative, right? 

For being a scientist, this famous brainiac sure had good things to say about all parts of life. Living from 1879-1955, he received the Nobel Prize and made enormous contributions to science, especially theoretical physics. But I realized, as I began to accumulate quotations by him, that he was also insightful on subjects from politics to imagination. 

Here he is, in his own words. Take a moment to read over these quotations, then think, digest, and weigh in.

·

“The hardest thing to understand in the world is the income tax.”

“Make everything as simple as possible, but not simpler.”

"I don’t believe in mathematics.”  

“An empty stomach is not a good political advisor.”

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.” 

(quotations found on brainyquote.com and thinkexist.com)

Which quotation is your favorite? What do you think it means? Let's discuss!

Thinking Places

Last week my family and I got away for a few days together. We scampered all around Northern California, experiencing new towns and possibly discovering every possible way to become carsick on winding back roads. However, it was refreshing to get some quality time together and a change of scenery. A bit of vacation also proved good for my writing.

One afternoon my family sat on the shores of a jade-green lake (interestingly named "Trinity Lake") and sat in silence, each member absorbed in a different creative project. I took the time to soak in the silence, slowing down after nearly a month of nonstop work (and almost no time for my novel). I scribbled out a poem, a first response to the beautiful place and the quiet moment of being still and noticing. It felt like a drink of cold Gatorade after a hard run or hike.

One of our stops was at the charming Blackberry Inn in the coastal town of Mendocino. Caressed by the foggy, temperate marine layer, lush with dozens of varieties of colorful flowers, and deliciously out of range of cell phone service, it was the perfect place to stop and rest and write. Our adorable little room looked like a life-sized dollhouse, complete with a sunny window and a pair of wing-back chairs.

In my home office, the writing time I eke out is often interrupted by the phone ringing, the dryer beeping, new e-mails, the front door. In this quiet room in Mendocino, I was cut off from those interruptions. Sure, there were all my usual mental distractions (read a book! what do I need to do tomorrow? oh look, a seagull!), but in a one-room enclosure with almost no technology, I found it easier to center down and blurt out eleven pages of new novel material, written longhand in a pink journal. It helped to sit at this old-fashioned wooden desk under a painting of a thatch-roofed English cottage. I felt a bit like Jane Austen or one of the Bronte sisters.

What I realized most was that my normal life is full of multitasking. It's a skill that makes getting multiple mindless things done at the same time possible, but it really kills deep, original thinking. Writing is one way we mortals imitate our Father God, who breathed a world into being ex nihilo, out of nothing. That takes focus. When my attention is on fifty different things, it's hard to get below surface-level maintenance writing and think of anything new. 

Creative thought, like a relationship with God, requires some periods of silence, solitude, and centering. (Hot tea, fuzzy socks, and a beautiful view don't hurt either.) Sometimes it's important to retreat from routine to create a nurturing environment where creativity can grow. For me, it was a time of peace and releasing the story within. It left me refreshed and a little readier to return to the daily world of multitasking.

Does the world of multitasking ever leave you in need of a retreat? Where do you go to refresh your creative side?

A Splendid Supply of Surprising Sweets

The adventurous and interesting Tami Clayton invited me to play a game of letters (my favorite kind). The rules: reveal 10 of your favorite things that begin with a certain letter of the alphabet.

My letter (in case the post title didn't give it away): S!

Ready?


Stories: Escape into magical worlds. Power to change the real world. What I want to spend my life writing and reading.

Spices: Cooking has never been so interesting!

Sliding ladders: Ohhh, I want one so much!! Or I could just move into a library that has them.

Shakespeare: The love of my literary life (minus the earring). The genius bard of the Western world. Themes as relevant today as they were in the 16th century. Need I say more?

Sunshine: Just one of the many great reasons to be living in California again!

Scotland: The windswept land of bagpipes and legends, monks and poets, caber tossing and lovely accents--my second-favorite place in the world (after home, of course).

Springtime: My favorite season of the year!

Singing: I like to shatter windows with the high notes. (Actually, I just like imitating Hayley Westenra in the shower, on my church praise team, and when I have the house to myself.)

Sincerity: One of the characteristics I value most in friends (and in literary characters).

Socks: These are not my feet. But I kind of wish they were. My favorite Tinker Bell pair got a hole in them, but I do have a pretty awesome pair of knee-high blue-and-green argyles.

What are your favorite S-things? If you have a blog and want to play the letter game, leave me a comment and I'll send you a starting letter via Facebook or Twitter!

Confessions from a Home Office

After almost 9 months of chugging away as a freelance writer, editor, and English tutor, I feel that it's time to share my perspective on working from a home/office...er, home office. It's often glorified as the ultimate work situation, but it's certainly not free from challenges. 

After college, I moved back into the room of my childhood. The challenge was converting it into an office as well. Organizing the same amount of space to serve two purposes was a challenge. At first I just kind of put my work in a blender and watched it explode all over the floor. 

I eventually got a bit more organized, at least space-wise. But organizing time can be harder. I am my own boss, which leaves me accountable only to myself for time management. Sometimes I'm distractable and not productive enough. More often, though, I'm doing five things so efficiently that I multitask myself clean out of productivity. Trying to do too many things can actually keep my thinking so shallow that I'm not productive at anything, especially writing. 

Working from home can be hard to explain to others. Sometimes people think that because I stay at home, I don't actually work. I promise--I do. But getting respect for that isn't always easy. It can also be tough to guard my work time. Because I'm within earshot of the phone, the dishwasher, the oven timer, the front door, it's the easiest thing in the world to get interrupted and distracted. Or to use home chores as procrastination stations. 

My job can be lonely. Sometimes I get to the end of the day overflowing with words because I simply haven't opened my mouth to talk to a human being all day. My brain gets tired from juggling e-mails, flashback scenes, and semicolon placement, but there are no co-workers to socialize with around the water cooler. I'm learning I have to be proactive and intentional about spending time with people.   

But there are also some undeniable perks to the job. I love that my mornings aren't dictated by a rush to beat traffic or catch a train. I really enjoy the quiet and calm of my own home atmosphere. It's pretty nice to be able to grade papers while watching blue jays perch in the backyard birches or redline a manuscript while wearing my fuzzy slippers. And it's been a special blessing to be available to help care for my grandma these past five months. 

A few days ago I wrote an e-mail to a friend who asked me what it was like to be a freelancer. My response was long. It's a lot of work, and trust is a constant challenge as I have to keep surrendering my question-mark future into God's hands. But I also realized that I love my work. I sure don't feel like that every single morning. But overall, I'm so grateful to have this chance to pursue my God-given passions from a base of nurture and support.  I look back over the last nine months and realize that this time has not been wasted. In spite of the logistical snags, the isolation, the multitasking, the procrastination--I'm moving in the direction of what I was made to do. And that is a great feeling.


One of my goals this summer is getting my children's novel ready to start the publication process! In the interest of productivity on that, I'm going to be cutting back to blogging once a week for the summer. Don't let me slack off! The race is on!