leaving the kids’ table.

And now, finally, my first post from adult life.

I’ve been done with college for five weeks, a member of the workforce for four. I had another birthday and finally got a California driver’s license. The photo, as per DMV usual, looks like I’m a crystal meth addict.

So…how is post-grad?

When I was growing up, I thought adults had the lame end of the stick. The kids got to run around and have fun, while the parents watched and picked up after us. If they had a free moment, all they did was cook or clean or sit around talking.

Now I think I’m starting to get it. The kids were the ones missing out.

Whether wandering the Santa Monica pier, people-watching in Hollywood bars, or sitting around a secondhand kitchen table, the conversations and explorations that have happened in the last month have been fantastic. I have a solid group of friends, and I wouldn’t trade the memories I have with them for all of the coffee in Columbia.
As grownups, we have the ability to soak up the richness of our days in a way kids can’t.

Ping pong, the pool, and people. A recipe for YES PLEASE.

I thought leaving college would be depressing…I liked school. But now that I’m out where the people are, I’ve realized that there are so many things to do. It was all well and good to have everyone I knew living within the same square mile, but now we go places. We cook, and it usually works. We have jam sessions around bonfires. We talk about things like career paths and churches and skinny dipping. We make spontaneous plans.

I’m working on a script that’ll be filmed in Brazil, researching web startups, writing for a communal blog, and contemplating moving to NYC. Because I can, and I haven’t before.

I’m still getting a grip on being officially grown up. As my brilliant friend Annie put it, “I have an existential crisis every other day.”

But I’ve figured out this much:

There will always be books I haven’t read, songs I haven’t heard, and conversations I haven’t had yet. There will always be more things to try.

Life is sweet.

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About han-nah

I'm a little bit more every day.

Posted on July 3, 2011, in Story of My Life. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. Bahaha. I saw the link for “where the people are,” and I was like, “God, I hope she posted a link to Ariel singing Part of Your World.” And sure enough…

    Yeah, we definitely need to hang out more. Spontaneous bonfire-jam-sesh while people-watching in a Hollywood bar this summer? Yes, let’s.

    D’you have my numba?

    • I don’t have it! Could you message it to me?

      We should hang out fa sho. I could actually use your help…I really want to host a thing where people come and bring instruments and their voices and whatnot and we eat French toast and other breakfast food and then play improv music all night, and call it “Toast and JAM.”

      You in?

  2. Cleverrrr.

    Fyeah I’m in! I can’t help you cook er nuthin’, but I can definitely help with instruments and finding people to play them, & I’ll play a few myself. Do you play musics? Or do you just like hangin’ with musician fellers?

    Yes, I did just drift in and out of a drawl. Of all of the accents I have assimilated into my normal speech pattern, Southern has def become the most prevalent.

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