on being a YTS

Lately, I've been busy playing house at my actual house while my parents are on vacation. It's been far too satisfying, to be honest (as if we needed proof that I'm an old woman. er, wise beyond my years?), and also clarifying.

I've been filling my brain with lots of my own musings on what the hell phase of life I'm in, bolstered by funny online compilations like this. (I also read this in the fall and really loved it.) It seems all of us "young twenty-somethings" (YTS) feel the same way, and have to find that solidarity on social media. Figures, right?

The best article I've read about it? This. I want to blow the entire thing up to poster size and frame it on my wall or something. A few favorites bits:

"So, with our undergraduate degrees that mean nothing and everything at the same time, we venture onward, uninformed about the world and ourselves, armed only with a delusional sense of entitlement that is rapidly extinguished. ... The unknown is more exhausting than it is exciting, especially when you have no idea who you are or where your next paycheck is coming from. We have friends and parents, sure, but no solid companion to confide in or lean on when pinged by the umpteenth job rejection email. No wonder anxiety is now the most common mental illness in the United States, according to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America. ...  That's what being a young-20-something is. No secure career path. No secure housing. No secure relationship. No secure ownership over much of anything worthwhile. No idea where you will be in two months, let alone two years. No secure footing. Not even a ledge in sight. When we are thirty (god willing, by thirty), we are going to look back on this time and wonder "How did I not fall to my death!?" Until then, we drink!"

Cheers, y'all.