The Sweet Hereafter That Has Yet To Begin

Alpha Cousin reminds me that I have not shared the intimate details of my life in 7 days. Don't even ask what has been going on in this little brain of mine since then. It is almost too gory and palpable for a blog. All I have to say is that on the eve of 1-month-until-I'm-4-years-closer-to-30, I can't help but feel that I'm still 16 somewhere inside, and that she is trying to bust loose.

Life at 16 was sweet for a reason. Now, for better and for worse (but largely for the better), it can be categorized into ways it never could back then. Life at age-at-which-I'm-almost-4-years-closer-to-30 is sweeter for sure, but in a Sour Patch Kid kind of way. Here's why:

My Big Old UWS Studio

Bowled over by living in one. It's so big I get tired moving from bed to bathroom to closet to coffee table to dresser and finally out the door in the morning. There has been a temporary lapse in my Martha Stewart ways. I revel in watching 3 TV shows at once and keep hair tools on the coffee table. I drink almost everything in a wine glass. I play Hindi music VERY loudly and often put the most awesomely bad songs on repeat. Sometimes I even sing along. Okay, I usually sing along. I actually Laugh Out Loud (aka, LOL) when John Stewart tickles my funny bone and I know the doorman can hear me swoon. I dig into un-plated food with abandon knowing that I will be the only one returning to the container and re-ingesting my own germs. I stay up unreasonably late like a 5-yr old waiting for the big secret party she's never invited to and must be in bed by - except it never comes. I also vacuum, a chore I have not performed since I was...16.

My Path To Finding "Somebody Special :)"

Yeah, with the smiley face, according to another dear cousin who is far older than me (yes, that's right, you're far, far older...) and recently wished me luck in my "path to finding somebody special :)." Huh? Clearly my family is a gold mine of blog topics lately. Gag me with the dirty spoon still sitting in my sink.

If anyone I know has followed such a path, please enlighten me. Oh, right. None of you did. Oops.

But then, of course, awesomely bad Hindi song comes on and I'm singing along, LOL'ing to John Stewart, and swooning. Weird thoughts start swirling around in my head and before you know it, I've vented to about 4 different friends and 2 different relatives and 1 coworker and 1 somewhat of an absolute stranger about the state of dating and love for the average 25-yr old female in this day and age. It is an exhausting performance and preoccupation.

The Google/Facebook World

I claim to be a traditionalist about communication. I only use my cell phone when necessary and avoid Facebook, AIM, etc., like the plague.

Yeah, right. With Gmail and its amazing buddy/chat capabilities (video! Google talk! regular chat! AIM chat! endless possiblities...) available to me all day long, this is primarly how I communicate lately. It is inescapable and much more a part of my life than I would like to admit. The context has changed - I no longer see my friends 24/7, literally. Now, I can kind of need it to navigate distances and awkward situations.

People poke me on FB and it's kind of a fun reminder that we all do little during the day and are generally insomniacs. Some even give me public gifts. I admit to doing some stalking on it as well - we all know that is what it was meant for.

Late at night, I v-chat with my chickies who managed to make those previously red states go blue when they moved. I like seeing their cute faces and how they give me virtual tours of their new pads. In the mornings, I update peeps on how my night went if I had been out. We are our own news feeds.

But online communication and use of these snazzy social networks can get kind of fuzzy and you start smacking your head for all sorts of online social taboos, rejections, or misreads. You want to use it, and you don't. You want to rely on it for some things, not for others, but can't avoid either. I've spent many an hour biting my nails, twirling my hair, and throwing myself into anxious tizzies surmising what the latest action or non-action meant. It was so much simpler when it was just email and instant message back when I was...16.

Not to mention that I have this blog. Jeez. But at least this is just me spewing and avoiding the tortuous interaction I would surely put you through.

My Posse...

Or lack thereof. Going on 4 years out of college, there is only some semblance of a "scene" left. No more traveling with your posse - it dwindled to foursomes, trios, then pairs (but not always the pair you were looking for). Then random combinations of all of the above which changed frequently and unexpectedly. People moved, either physically or onto new phases in life. It happens.

And it's not all bad. I crave my freedom and space, reveling in my own phase, the feeling of being unattached, going to/leaving a party at your whim, staying in, going out, screening your calls and knowing no one will actually come find you. I also have to give myself props. I'm exponentially more comfortable going out on my own and meeting up with new people to meet new people. It's liberating and gratifying. It's my new thing.

And so in my post-16 trauma that should have occurred 9 years ago, I remind myself that most is not lost and how many great things are about to begin.

As they say, c u l8r.