QUARTER.
Life in your 20's. Post-college. Not all you imagined while slaving away at a History of America 1965-Present paper due in approximately 2 hours and 21 minutes.
Via BET and MTV, we grew up watching pimps on boats with hordes of girls "dancin' up on them" (imagine Ice T or LL voicing that, sounds much better in my head than when my lack-of-street-cred self says it). The Spice Girls conquered the world with their "I can do anything and still look sexy and quirky, with some Spice-appropriate alias" vibes.
College came and went.
The frat parties, the clubs, the "No, my name really is Kara and I was born in '1980'. I'm an...aquarius?" moments, late nights with bad coffee and left-over Thai food, extra-long twin sized beds, communal bathrooms where random people occasionally have sex when a roommate has signaled, via the sock on the doorknob, NO ENTRY, the ass-backwards crunchy hippie roommate who used one unwashed towel for an entire year to save water and therefore, supposedly, the planet, the really-good-but-really-bad-for-you dining hall cookies.
And that night on the Engineering floor where a bunch of socially awkward engineering students rolled chunks of cheese shaped like cars down the hall.
Then the post-graduation 20's. Fresh out of the egg chicks for the first 2 years. The world is still so beautiful. Skies blue. New apartment, QUEEN SIZED bed! First job. Paychecks! Then come what I call "the doubt years". You posit the questions, "Where is my life going?", "Career?", "What career?", "Should I go back to school?", "Oh, fuck, I need to dress age appropriate now." Ok, that wasn't a question, but you know you think it.
And there you have it, your almost-to-mid-20s. There really isn't a trajectory in life one is "supposed to" follow (if you believe in "supposed to's", you've probably f-ed it up already). Just a lot of happiness, confusion, love, heartache, obstacles, and some scrapes and bruises in jumping those hurdles. Welcome to the 20s.
This is not intended to be a diary, a memoir, a blog to bitch about life. Rather, just some stories loosely based on facts and fiction (whether from my life or that of friends) that I find humorous and chronicle in an alter ego way. And turn into stories.
