The Misadventures of a 20-Something

That's right, my best friend just got married three days ago.  She's 19 and I turned 20 a little over a month ago.  We've known each other for 11 years and her wedding day came a little earlier than I'd expected it to.

My friend and I have always known we were very different.  She was raised in a traditional Mormon family and I grew up with zero religious background.  No, she's not one of those weirdo Fundamentalist Mormons you see on Sister Wives or some shit like that.  She's just a devout member of the Mormon church with those missionaries that dress in white button-down shirts, black slacks, and black ties and ride around on bikes.  Her religion encourages young marriages, so it was a never a shocker that she always said she wanted to be married before 22.  And her dream came true.

I, on the other hand, am terrified of the prospect of marriage at this age.  I'm freshly 20, a sophomore in college, sort of living on my own across the country, and have no clue who I am or where I'm headed.  I have yet to figure myself out and what I want to do with my life post-college that marriage, let alone dating, is at the rock bottom of my list.  The only thing I know for sure is that I want to live in a shoebox-size apartment in a borough of New York City and hopefully hold a job that will pay my $1,500 monthly rent.  I need a plan; in order to even think of marriage, I want to be employed, living on my own, and self-sufficient.  I need to get my shit together before I ever think of finding someone to put up with me.

I think the strangest part about my friend's wedding is that she met her husband only back in April.  They were engaged in September and had a speedy wedding in December.  It baffles me that people can know if a person is "the one" in a few short months.  Of course, this is another typical Mormon practice.  For some people, it works.  I could never imagine not dating someone for at least two years before considering marriage.  But my friend is happy and she found her Prince Charming, so that's all that matters, I guess.

I'm at the tail end of finals week, which means I'll be going home soon.  This is the first time I'll be home since August.  Four months is a long time to go without seeing my family or familiar surroundings, but I've done it twice before and I'm fine.  Instead of feeling excited, I'm kind of dreading it.

As I've mentioned before, I go to school across the country from my hometown.  I'm a California native who left the warm comfort of the Los Angeles suburbs to go to college in central/upstate New York.  There aren't very many West Coasters at my school, let alone Californians.  Whenever I meet new people or give campus tours, everyone asks me why I'm in snowy, cold New York.  I give a pretty generic answer along the lines of "I wanted something different and the communications program here is excellent, blah blah blah."  But that's only partially true.  Strangers don't want to hear my real answer of "I hated everything about home."

Like some college students, I didn't have the greatest high school experience.  In fact, I despised it with every fiber of my being.  I wasn't bullied or a victim of bad experiences, I just forced myself to grow up too fast because I wanted to be an adult.  To say I didn't fit in is an understatement.  Since the start of elementary school, all I wanted to do was go to college.  My parents told me great things and stories about college:  living on your own, making lots of friends, choosing what you want to learn.  It was like a wonderland to me and I wanted to experience it as soon as possible.  I quickly grew tired of the same kids I was forced to go to school with for more than a decade.  None of them had the same interests as me nor did I think they were mature enough to have any sort of conversation with.  The list of people I hated was much longer than the people I liked and I was very open about it, which in turn caused plenty of people to hate me.  I was so obsessed with the idea of college that I took almost every advanced class offered at my high school to look impressive on college applications.  I was pinned as a studious loser because I slaved over schoolwork, but it was all for my goal of leaving California and going to a college that no one from my high school would be at.

I've been in college for over a year now and I've learned to do a lot of things better than I did in high school, like managing time and cleaning up after myself.  But there is something I wish I hadn't learned to do throughout middle and high school:  slut shame.

You know what I'm talking about.  In middle school, there was always that girl.  The one who went through "boyfriends" like Kleenex.  She'd have one guy for a week, a new one for a few days, and another for maybe two weeks.  Whenever she got a new guy, it was always the hottest gossip.  Everyone, and I mean everyone, called her names:  slut, whore, skank, easy, bitch, the list goes on and on.  Sometimes it didn't have to involve another guy.  If a girl kissed multiple guys, she was called a slut.  And let's think about this for a second:  What does a middle school relationship even consist of?  Holding hands?  Hugging?  Maybe kissing?  It's pretty innocent shit that shouldn't even be considered a relationship because when middle school kids say they "like" someone, it usually means they think someone is cute without getting to know them.  So who cares?

The same can be said for high school.  There were girls who were sexually active and they were the targets for slut shaming.  

I will admit that I was a participant in slut shaming because I didn't know any better.  But once I came to college, that all changed.  Most of my closest friends here at school aren't virgins and have been sexually active for quite some time.  What changed?  

In college, no one cares about what you do.  You aren't judged nearly as harshly as you are in high school.  In fact, you're brutally reprimanded when you participate in slut shaming.  It was a rude awakening for a lot of us, but it may have been one of the greatest lessons I've ever learned.  Sex, like religion and politics, is a personal choice.  I won't criticize you for it unless you're being irresponsible about it.  Do who you want as many times as you want, I have no say in it.

I'm not a fan of school breaks.  Sure, they're relaxing, but winter and summer breaks are so damn long.  My college gives us a whole month off for winter and about three and a half months for summer.  What's the matter with that, you may ask.  Well...

A month.  What can you possibly do that keeps you entertained for that long at home?  I can't do much.  I'm from suburban Los Angeles and don't have my own car or money to use public transit for sight-seeing.  Only a handful of my home friends have cars and the rest don't even have their license.  I really hate being the soccer mom.  Not to mention, most of those friends go back to their schools two weeks before I do and get out a week before I do, leaving me with only a week to see them.

Of course, I can pick up a book and read, which I do.  But after about two weeks or so, I'm ready to head back to campus.  I missed my friends, living without parental supervision, setting my own rules, partying, even the communal bathroom.  I missed being back on campus so much that I counted down the days until I flew back.  That's another problem:  my college friends all live on the East Coast within a few hours' drive from each other.  I was stuck back West while they all saw each other during the long, drab break.

Family.  I'm an only child who loves and is very close to her parents, but since we're the only ones in California, I never grew up seeing my extended family on a regular basis.  At most, I saw my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins once a year or every other year.  I was fine with that until I realized how uncomfortable I am now to really converse with them, especially my dad's family.  My dad is the oldest of four kids and he has a very surface-level relationship with his two sisters and one brother.  It always bothered me.  They never talked about "deep" or personal topics such as politics or their kids.  It was basically asking each other, "Oh, how's the weather?"  My dad is also the black sheep of the family; he broke away from his rather conservative, Lutheran family norms and became a very liberal atheist.  I know some of my cousins and other extended family members have run into trouble with the law, but everyone has a North Dakotan Scandinavian attitude about it.  *In a Minnesotan-esque accent* "Oh, no, we don't talk about that."  When I found out my grandparents and uncle would be coming over this Christmas, I rolled my eyes and sighed in annoyance.  Don't get me wrong, I like my family, but I'd much rather just spend my breaks in peace with two other people in the house.  Even having one extra person is exhausting, let alone three.  I grew up simply and would like to come back to that when I have to.

I am not even close to done with any of the schoolwork assigned to me over this Thanksgiving break.  I understand it's my fault for being distracted, but I think professors should think twice before assigning things over breaks.

A break is meant to be relaxing.  But in my three semesters of college, I have received assignments over fall, Thanksgiving, and spring breaks and that trend is likely to continue.  Professors notice how tired and stressed out we are during the school year and you would think they'd like to give us a break once in a while.

I knew I was going to procrastinate on my work the minute I found out about it, along with most students.  I feel like professors assume that every student goes home where they can have limited distraction to finish their work.  But unlike some students, I happen to go to school across the country from my hometown, making going home unaffordable and not an option during short breaks.  I have no family out east and the closest relatives I have to school live in the Great Plains.  So naturally, I go home with friends.  Friends are the ultimate distraction.  Not in a negative sense, of course.  But we want to have fun and enjoy the break we have from attending classes.

Well, I'm finally 20.  No, the world didn't explode when the clock struck midnight on the 22nd.  I don't feel any wiser or more mature.  Age is a number, but don't think it doesn't scare the shit out of me.

My early teenage years were some of the most uncomfortable years of my life.  I was like any other middle schooler:  brace-faced, greasy, angsty, and unfashionable.  I couldn't wait to grow up.  I'd been surrounded by the same, stupid, immature kids since elementary school and wanted to be away from them for good.  And as much as I hated those years of awkwardness, life was so easy back then.  I had really nothing to worry about and could act like a kid and get away with it.  Those were the somewhat blissful years.

Then bam, you turn 18.  You're an adult and everyone expects you to suddenly grow up and act like one, even though these self-righteous 30-somethings still treat you like a five year old.  I never understood it.  Now that you're 20, you're expected to know what you want to do with your life right as your get into college and beyond and if you don't, you're a total failure.  I can admit with 100% honesty that I have no idea what I want to do after college and if my majors will help me get a job.  Humanities for the win...

What struck me as horrifying is that within the next 10 years, I might be married and pregnant.  MARRIED?  It's not my ultimate dream to get married, but it would be nice years from now because almost every girl wants her dream wedding.  But knowing I'm in the age bracket and market for marriage is absolutely mind-boggling.  I could meet my potential husband in college.  Adulthood is fucking scary.  This whole marriage and settling down scares me more than living on my own and figuring out what my career path will be.

Hello, Internet.  I'm not going to go into detail about who I am and why I started up this blog because you can read all about that in my "About Me/FAQ" section.  But I will explain a few things.

As a journalism major, I guess it's good to be on the radar and broadcast my writing.

So you can assume from my blog title that this will be about my life's strange events.  You'll learn through time that an amalgam of very weird things have happened to or around me.  I'll reflect upon some past events as I blog about things that have just happened.  Here's what to look for: