#adulting
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#adulting
“Circle time!” My kindergarten teacher’s unusually high, lispy voice echoed in my small ears as I ducked under the playhouse door and cast aside my apron. I played the mom on Tuesdays. I took my spot in what I now remember as an oval as opposed to a circle. The carpet was a strange mix…
What #adulting Doesn’t Mean
I have blogged earlier this week about the #adulting phenomenon in which millennials find themselves. You can read those posts here and here. But right now, I want to talk about what #adulting doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy some candy on Halloween (or steal your kids’). It doesn’t mean you’re not allowed…
Mail in a Pile on the Counter
Time is bizarre. It’s something we can spend and save, make and waste, choose and lose. We can have too much, but mostly have too little. Time can fly, and time can also crawl. It moves systematically forward but never backward, and it never, ever stops. The concept of time makes my brain hurt sometimes.…
The Dum Dum Dilemma
You know how restaurants sometimes have those mints you can grab as you walk out the door? As a kid, I thought it was cool. Free candy, you know? Now that I’m an adult, I understand exactly what they are there for. Lunch meetings. And you’re the poor sap that ordered something with garlic or…
Kentucky Fried Adulting
Nothing quite says #adulting like a teenager’s first job. Especially when that job is fast food. I suppose there was certain irony in the fact that I began the first pages of this section sitting in the lobby of a McDonald’s. At the time, I had intentions of drafting an entire book around my experiences…
Without my Mommy
I was 18, attending my first college orientation, and shoved into a large computer lab with other confused adolescents… without my mommy. Not. Cool.
Does Adulting mean Becoming your Parents??
Does adulting mean becoming your parents? Sometimes something flies out of my mouth and I have to race to the mirror to make sure I haven’t turned into my mother. …or my father. Does adulting mean I need a specific table cloth for every holiday? Do I need to buy fancy Christmas china and gold…
The Fart Box
Professional. /prəˈfeSH(ə)n(ə)l/. Adjective. Relating to or connected with a profession. “Young professional people.” Synonyms: White Collar, executive. Nonmanual. “People in professional occupations.”
Preschool Style
The concept of friendship is almost bizarre if you really think about it. What’s the moment your relationship with another human being suddenly moves beyond an acquaintance or coworker or stranger and into this friendship zone that comes along with a certain understanding of each other? What drop of rain overflows the bucket? As a…
And for My Next Trick: 10,000 Followers Will Fly Out My Ass
Maybe it’s time I join the circus. At this point, I’m damn good at juggling. Even as I type, I have about seven things floating above my head that I’m going to need to catch and toss again in a few seconds. I’ll use my feet if I must. It’s fine. I’ve done it before.…
The Universe I Create
Between the hemispheres of my brain, within the confines of my skull, a million words are flying. They’re soaring across an intricate web of thought. They build a world, letter by letter, a place only I can see when I close my eyes. I am sane. I am an adult. I know it is all…
Harrold Be Thy Name
The reality in which we pirouette as children is so much different than where we flail as adults. Kids dance in what is more like perception, until one day they fall through the glass, land in a chair labeled “grown-up,” and discover just what reality is. Gross. Becoming an adult brings a flood of realization.…
Where Am I Going With This?
“Alright, Kait, where are you going with this?” I ask myself for the fourth time today. Adults usually have a plan. They’re normally organized. They know where they’re going. The thing is, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just start writing. It’s a lot like the piano for me, now. I took…
Bizarre, Babbling, Bumbling Band of Baboons
We don’t know what we’re doing. We’re a bizarre, babbling, bumbling band of baboons trying to figure it all out. But we’re not alone.
The Identity Crisis
As I rise to a more advanced level of adulting (you know, like this is a video game or something), I find myself yanked toward a less adult-like view of my life and the direction I should be headed. It’s strange; one would assume my delusions would decrease as I age, but these days they…
Perplexing Paradox
Maybe it’s the dissonance between my adult brain and my child heart. Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism meant to protect me from hurt or disappointment. It’s possibly a lack of self-confidence, or insecurity sprouting from a quarter-life identity crisis. I don’t really know the reason. But the way I feel today is different from the…
For The Boscos
You couldn’t pay me to go back to high school. But I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to do it over again, only with the mindset I have now. There are so many things that seem like the end of the world when we are navigating those musty halls and squeezing by…
Mechanic Bills and Buying in Bulk
“Get your ass offline,” I messaged my co-worker when I saw her online during her day off. I’m so professional. “I’m going!” She replied. “Just wanted to quickly log on and send the team some information… I don’t want to be the reason anything gets delayed.” I know adulting = responsibility, but is there ever…
Make It Go
Inside, I feel a little like the wick of a candle when the wax is gone and the fire fizzles out. I’m short and charred, and would crumble between two fingers. I am burnt out. I’ve put so much in. Everyday another word, another hope, another idea. Everyday another page. Sometimes I’m not sure there’s…
#adulting 