Navigating Freedom and Hydroplaning

A big part of graduating is learning how to navigate all of the tricky things that come with being free. It's not just about trying to find theatre work and this the ability to navigate freedom directly relates to your success in finding work, I think. At least that's my excuse for using this blog as an outlet for some of my 20something turmoil.

My thoughts. In two parts.

Part I: The New York Times outrage

I spend a lot of my time with people in their late twenties and thirties. I really know very few people who are my age here. Part of the reason is probably because I'm playing small roles in big theatres so I'm working in a circle of older established people, which is so fortunate for me, but keeps me constantly aware of my age. I am, however, coming to embrace the energetic cute 22 year old stereotype I am assigned, as long as everyone knows that energy is married to utter determination.

Then a friend (who is 29) was talking to me about how the "20somethings" have kind of disappeared. She hasn't met any in the 'business' recently, with me as an exception. She brought up this article in the Times. What I took from the article were two things about the 20-somethings: that we are refusing to grow up/be adults and that we are spending our 20s mindlessly exploring while not being adults.

While I am not completely independent from my parents yet (health insurance and college loans) I am out of their house and I have a day job to support myself while I figure out what I want to do. I don't think I'm refusing to grow up at all. However, I am exploring. Because I am not settling. Settling would be a mistake, for me. I don't think this makes me less of an adult; I think it makes me more of one. I am not scared of freedom in a way that would confine me to making choices that keep me safe. People in their 20s have all their options open to them and it's childish to not take advantage if you want them. Yes, I want to travel. But I'm not begging anyone for money to do it. I'm saving out of every week of work. I'm supporting my mindful explorations. I'm fueling the world around me with my 20something energy that radiates optimism (why is that negative now?) and drive. That doesn't make me a child, that makes me a force.

And if they created a government program to support us and ease the transition into adulthood I think that would just further delay it. Though I'd love a bond to travel. hah.

Here's a response to the Times that I read and stole the Kafka quote from: http://thefastertimes.com/voyeurism/2010/08/25/20-somethings-you-are-free-and-that-is-why-you-are-lost/

Soap box done.

Part 2: Okay so that was kind of irrelevant, but this is actually the point

The point is what all of that got me thinking about: why do I feel like I'm a floundering 20something when I'm actually doing really well in a lot of respects? (I call this relevant because I think a lot of recent grads feel a little lost no matter what they're doing.)

"You are lost and that is because you are free." -Kafka

I dove in. I moved to a new city within a month of graduating with the promise of an unpaid month-long job. And now I'm here. And I'm finding ways to open up so many doors for myself. I've met wonderful people. I've managed to be working in a theatre at least once every week. I'm constantly recalculating. I'm learning how to dig into people. I'm making decisions. I'm changing my mind. I love it. It feels like I have every option in front of me and, though I sometimes feel like I should, I don't have to choose one yet.

But there's a feeling of constant hydroplaning (a freedom from traction). I'm not completely in contact with the ground, which is terrifying and completely exhilarating. It doesn't mean I'm not progressing. It just means I don't feel in control of that progression.

The problem is I haven't found a point of stability yet, a point at which I am confident I will regain contact with the ground. Those points are kind of handed to you within the structure of schooling and the life I've lived up to this point. Now I am jumping from job to job: different positions, different theatres, different people. I'm also still adjusting to a completely new place, I know very few people here well enough to really be comfortable, my day job isn't something I want to do forever, etc etc. So, for me, I need to find a point of stability, one thing I know is consistent, so everything else can continue to be flexible. Because I like to hydroplane.

I don't know if that makes sense. What I mean is, I loved that I was overwhelmed at school and did everything - I jumped from electrician to designer to director to assistant and loved it. BUT I knew that in the morning I had class. For a couple of hours I regained contact because I had something that happened every week that I could expect (and people I knew would be there); it served as an anchor (albeit sometimes an annoying one) for everything else to swirl around. There is nothing in my post-grad life like that yet.

I think that anchor can be anything really. A person, a group of people, a place, an activity - something you know is consistent. Something that makes you feel safe for just a second. That second of safety fuels the ability to not be in contact with the ground the rest of the time.

Because I like hydroplaning. I need to spin and discover and wonder and be free. I'll slam into a choice when it's time.

So... post grad life lesson - find an anchor on a long leash so you can contact the ground once in awhile? Or stay out of the rain.

Sidenote: I think for a lot of other recent grads the problem is the opposite: too many options can freeze people. So instead of hydroplaning they are unmoving on a road soaked with possibilities. The car works. The downpour is purifying. Buckle an anchor into the passenger seat and go.