Lately, I’ve been busy manufacturing a human life, and I’m now a little more than halfway finished. From what I gather, the trend nowadays seems to be to document and publicly share every detail of pregnancy, but I’m resisting that, so if you want to know how many tenths of a pound I gained per day or the nutritional facts of my prenatal vitamins, or when I puked or when I cried, I can’t give that to you. I’m just not interested in a scientific breakdown of this process of nature and made a point to not attempt to overanalyze the experience. This is mainly because I have a problem not being able to control my life/body and I came the the realization early on that relinquishing control was crucial to my mental health, so I decided to let my body and Mother Nature do what they do without fretting about it. That being said, I will still share some thoughts at this halfway mark.
The rapid expansion and high-jacking of my body isn’t the easiest thing to cope with, but the fact that I don’t have control over it does make it surprisingly more acceptable in my mind. I never thought I’d miss crunches as much as I do, that’s for sure. Of course, I’m mindful of everything I consume and do -- watching nutrition and calories and making sure to exercise as much as I can safely do so -- but I refuse to closely monitor my weight. I leave that unpleasantry for doctor’s visits. It’s all part of the letting go of the things that I know would become futile and damaging mental obsessions and focusing on how to make my baby and myself as healthy as possible throughout this whole process. Also, I’d much rather deal with getting perpetually heavier in this second trimester than feeling constantly awful in the first. We’ll see if I still feel that way in the final inning.
Now that I’m over the hump, timewise, I honestly can’t tell if I’m getting more nervous or more comfortable with childbirth. I mean, it’s going to happen, so I can’t let myself worry too much about it. I’ve decided to go the masochistic route: unmedicated and just letting that kid ruthlessly tear through my vagina as nature intended. The idea of this excruciating pain both terrifies and excites me. I figure that this will likely be THE most powerful life experience I’ll ever have the opportunity to go through, so I’ll suffer what it takes to be present for that moment (or those hours, more accurately). Of course, in the case of an emergency, I will defer to the expertise of the medical professional at my side, but barring any unforeseen problems, I want to do this, and I even more want to get this over with.
I can’t say I’m too worried about being a parent... yet. I mostly feel just completely ready for it. Clueless in a lot of ways, but ready to take it on. My main concern is raising an only child, if that’s what she ends up being, which seems likely at this point. A family with two parents and one child is just not a dynamic I’m familiar with, which doesn’t say much because I wouldn’t want my kid growing up with the dynamic I was familiar with (no offense, mom). But it’s impossible for me to imagine my life without my siblings; regardless of them being pains in my ass at various point in the past, present, and likely future, I love them and need them. This makes it hard for me to be OK with the fact that my daughter won’t have that. Then again, she’ll have other types of support that I didn’t, so a straight comparison doesn’t work. We just know we’ll need to compensate for her not having a brother or a sister by making sure she’s social and doesn’t get spoiled. Or, we’ll change our minds and have two.
Anyway, that sums up most of my thoughts about gestating this creature. Despite the hip pain and the heartburn, this is inarguably an incredible, albeit uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing, experience. I can’t wait to meet her, protect her, and show her around this insane life on Earth.
Here is a guide on how to be a successful freeloader, in one sense of the word. I’m not talking about being an irresponsible, inconsiderate leech, nor am I talking about clipping coupons and hunting deals, but making do with no income or assistance. I don’t just mean scraping by, waking up every morning with the one goal of foraging enough calories to stay alive until bedtime. I’m referring to actually living life on little or no money -- being entertained, having experiences, being well fed. It takes creativity, relentless researching, and dedication to become a skilled, honest freeloader.
You’ll notice that these strategies are clearly no solution for actually being homeless or dangerously broke -- rent’s still gotta be paid unless you’re couch surfing, squatting in an abandoned building, or sleeping on a park bench. They’re more suited to grad students with quickly depleting loan money and no serious responsibilities than people with true hardship. Also, it’s rather essential to be residing in a big city for these to work... being poor in a small town is pretty much just boring.
Foodstuffs
One good rule of thumb: Attend anything with refreshments. Parties, mixers, screenings, art walks. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve walked out of museum exhibit openings with pockets full of pretzels.
Also, always remember that day-old bread can save your life. Plenty of coffee shops, bakeries, and restaurants end each day with unsellable bread that they don’t know exactly what to do with.
There are a few different ways to get your hands on it. Befriending a kind-hearted barista could lead to bags full of still-good bagels and scones. If you know the right places and the right times to look, these establishments’ Dumpsters can be gold mines. And don’t act like that’s gross. I’m not talking about moldy, muddy refuse here. Some places even double-bag the not-bad-yet-but-too-old-to-sell bread and set it apart from the normal trash.
I will confess also that I have relied heavily of wine tastings with cheese assortments for calorie intake, but I’d be doing you a disservice to claim that this is a good idea. You generally just end up with very red, very foul-smelling vomit and end the night feeling more malnourished than before.
Fun Stuff
Most of my day-to-day entertainment involves consuming art in one form or another. If yours is more along the lines of consuming alcohol, that’s not really the subject of this, but I’m sure you won’t be out of luck with open bars and the aforementioned parties, mixers, art walks and wine tastings. As far as live music goes -- along with local bands playing free shows at coffee shops and bars -- there are always record store in-store performances. They might be shorter sets at strange times, but free is free, and I often prefer them to paid venue shows because they tend to be more intimate. Many big cities are also host to free summer concert series. If you’re more in the mood for visual art, mark the museum free days on your calendar. Most museums have them, usually at odd, low-traffic times -- the first Tuesdays of the month, Thursdays after 5 p.m. -- which are much easier to go to if you don’t have a day job to worry about anyway, so it all works out. Of course you could always wander through art galleries for free, whether it’s during an art walk or not. Fans of film can usually get their fix pretty easily, too, with free screenings, which sometimes only cost the time it takes to fill out a survey at the end. If you are a grad student, as mentioned, universities tend to have tickets to give away a lot of the time, if you show up first and know who to ask.
When summer rolls around, you could always trespass onto hotel property, nonchalantly locate the pool, and swim until being escorted off the premises, which is my only illegal suggestion, but still worth trying.
Don’t Be Lazy
The key here is research. Tracking down and keeping tabs on the most useful resources for information on fun, free stuff takes some work, but it’s worth it. Sign up for as many newsletters as you can find offering listings on each week’s free events. Figure out which blogs post the most and best insider news. If you’re lazy, this type of freeloading probably won’t work for you.
Most of the good things in life don’t cost much money, and if they do, there are usually ways around it. Like I said, this isn’t about slacking or stealing, just enjoying life even when you have no money to spend.
I am, of course, no longer a twenty-something grad student in massive debt, but even as a fairly settled and stable almost-30-year-old, I still practice quite a few of these things. Well, except for the food stuff; I just buy my food at Trader Joe’s now.
I sometimes hate money. Let me explain.
I wish it weren’t such an agreed-upon measure of success, because it’s an absurd one. A number on a bank account should in no way determine the worth of a person. It makes me question my choices that I otherwise know are good and sound; like, “Should I be doing what I want and what makes me happy even though it doesn’t make a lot of money?” The answer is obviously yes, but the question still gets asked repeatedly and it’s tiring.
I’m incapable of being a slacker due to an innate and irrepressible sense of responsibility, but I’m far from a career chaser. I find so many more things worth so much more than money, and I feel kind of weird about that. And then I kind of resent the fact that I’m made to feel weird about that. Here’s the thing: I don’t think the problem is me, I think the problem lies with our common beliefs being flawed and misguided.
Maybe it’s the free spirit in me talking, but money is ridiculous. If you’re a member of society, finances are important only to a certain degree, on a level much lower than most people seem to believe. You need to 1) support yourself, and 2) not live beyond your means. I believe one should manage one’s finances with a certain amount of responsibility to pay for necessities and prepare for emergencies, and a solid stockpile of cash can afford you the ability to do some of life’s more enjoyable activities (like travelling), but the pursuit of wealth is a silly thing to make a priority in our very short lives. Not to mention that the value of money is entirely perceived and subjective. It’s tenuous and arbitrary and in constant flux, and yet, it’s what many people think will make them most happy and stable. And I don’t get it.
And another thing, “What do you do?” is usually a terrible question when trying to determine someone’s identity. I mean, I don’t think it’s a rude or inappropriate question, I just don’t think you should expect the answer to reveal profound things about a person. Doing is not being. And on top of that, most jobs are a horrendous waste of time and a sacrifice of more important lots in life. Productivity matters. Satisfaction matters. Impact matters. Jobs don’t necessarily matter. And the status ascribed to them by a shallow and short-sighted society most certainly doesn’t matter. People should occupy themselves with things of which they can be proud, and not do anything solely for money.
When getting paid for jobs, I no longer think in terms of dollar amounts, but instead I translate it into what life-enhancing activities we will be afforded. Like, that job will get us Bumbershoot tickets, and that one will pay for a trip to Hawaii, and Oo we can get ice cream with that one! Along with helping me remember what holds real value, it also makes me feel better about the jobs that do only pay for ice cream.
So, when I say I hate money, it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t need or want it, or even that I don’t want more of it. I just hate the way the deluded concept of it distracts from more worthwhile thoughts and endeavors, and is the cause of so much anxiety.
Location is important to me, probably more important than it should be, really. I seem to move habitually and travel constantly, which makes being content in one place fairly difficult. It also causes me to be preoccupied with thoughts about where to live and where to go (and unsuccessfully search for an answer to where to stay). Reasonably, this occasionally leads me to debate the benefits and disadvantages of urban, suburban, and rural living, so I can semi-confidently pick one, which has panned out pretty much as follows.
While a back yard and garage sound lovely, I’d opt for the amenities and activities that a great city has to offer, like concerts and festivals and street fairs and museums and art walks. Still, I wouldn’t even call myself a “city” person (I do know, though, that I’m not cut out for suburbia; a desolate landscape of tract houses and strip malls will never cease to depress me.). I love wide open spaces and the solace of nature, too. That’s why choosing a city in close proximity to natural wonders and outdoor activities is essential. Sacrifices need to be made for any given choice, obviously, so finding a location with the best balance and fairest compromises is the trick, I suppose.
Living in a city makes a lot of things much easier, with more apartment/employment/shopping options all within a few-mile radius. City living can get rough though. I see how living in a city would make things harder for some people, with the traffic, crowds, and other various stressors. You’re dealing with more people and there’s more going on, which comes with a significant amount of pollutants and irritations. Lots happening can be both good and bad. Sometimes, I crave silence and stillness, and am denied, but there are also very few excuses to be bored. Being close to everything also means you rarely, if ever, need a car. Walkability is possibly my favorite characteristic of cities. And if walking isn’t quite suitable for your trip, there’s always (frequent and extensive) public transportation.
There are, of course, downsides to apartment dwelling. Neighbors above, below, and to the sides of you can get obnoxious fast. You can’t play your drums which have been gathering dust for 3 years. You don’t have windows on all four sides of your home. I would say you can’t have a garden, but that’s not true when you can just tend a plot in a community garden. All in all, none of the disadvantages are very hard to live with (expect for that drumming part).
Noise is my number one complaint about cities. I’m a little tired of your general whoops, hollers, and honks. Maybe it’s just me, but when I’m trying to sleep a babbling brook sounds a hell of a lot better than revving engines and revelling drunks. Then again, the blame for that is really on me and not the city, since I chose an apartment near downtown over one in a quieter neighborhood.
It seems like cities are often imagined to be filled with nonstop crime and pervasive filth, which are usually misconceptions. There are plenty of run-down, half-abandoned, litter-ridden suburbs not nearly as pretty as some well-maintained, tree-lined city streets. And as far as crime goes, dangers abound throughout urban sprawl too, and even the wilderness for that matter. Being aware of your surroundings to stay safe is one thing, irrational fears are another. Also, there’s now more poverty in the suburbs than in cities, blamed largely on underwater mortgages, fewer job opportunities, and commuting costs (which are paid in terms of mental health and time along with money).
I’m not particularly used to one way of living over another. I’ve lived in a bunch of different environments (cities, small towns, suburbs, woods) in a range of abodes (mortgaged houses, rented houses, sublet rooms, coops, apartments with roommates, apartments without, tents). Maybe I’m too familiar with everything to be comfortable with anything for long, but for now, I choose city, with frequent excursions into the country.
I’m starting to hate the idea of buying a house. When considering the best possible living situation, owning a home is just no longer obvious as the ideal choice. I’ll explain.
But before I continue, I have two disclaimers to set forth:
1) I’m no economist nor do I profess to have a strong grasp of related theories, trends or statistics. I have a cursory understanding of markets based on what I glean from headlines and listening to NPR the very few times I’m actually in my car each month. I just know what I’ve experienced and how I feel, and if that’s not relevant to you, you’re free to go read credible news sources.
2) If you own or want to buy a house, I am in no way judging or criticizing that decision. It may make perfect sense for you and bring you much happiness, especially if your mortgage is less than rent would be and you’re in a place you know you want to stay for years to come. I’m just talking about the way it is for me, and wondering how common my sentiments might actually be.
Anyway, attitudes are changing. All these bursting bubbles and downward spirals have kind of put my generation on edge about our parents’ and grandparents’ conception of the American Dream. The atmosphere seemed to go from where a small minority of us could actually afford real estate, to where prices were down (after plummeting) again but nobody wanted to buy. In other words, we couldn’t and now we can but don’t want to. First, homeownership fell out of reach, and now it’s fallen out of style.
I generally don’t eschew responsibility, but buying a house seems (to me and for me) to be an unreasonable burden to take on, with very little benefit. I’d rather not deal with interest rates, mortgages, taxes, and insurance when I could just pay a fair rent each month and move whenever I feel the urge. Also, I don’t know anyone who will argue at this point that homeownership is still “an investment.” On a related note, I’m also really looking forward to the sustainable, cheap, environmentally friendly prefab homes becoming more and more popular.
I really don’t see this as a negative thing, or as “giving up” on trying to buy a house. All it’s really doing is opening up more possibilities, allowing for more flexibility and freedom, and letting people keep the option of easy mobility. The point is I won’t be putting my name on a deed anytime soon, and I like it that way.
I have a problem. (And I know writing blogs spewing the inner workings of my somewhat unbalanced mind may just be opening myself up to be diagnosed or judged, or ignored if you’re looking to read something more interesting than my personal defects and opinions. But here it is anyway.)
I was feeling kind of down and restless today, so I was trying to figure out exactly why, which wasn’t readily apparent aside from an undeniable urge to be somewhere new doing something else. At first, I was wondering, why can’t I be content staying in one place doing the same things, you know, like normal people? Why am I seemingly incapable of settling down and always planning for the next big move? Why do I let my desire for novelty interfere with an otherwise wonderful life?
But then I realized, that’s not really my problem. That’s half of my problem. And really, it’s not a problem at all, but more of a contradiction I need to cope with. The other half is that I love regularity and familiarity. I take great pleasure in putting everything in its right place and completing the same tasks in the same order each day. I’m compulsively particular about all of the items in my apartment being in the same spot and my daily activities sticking to a precise routine (obviously, it’s a routine of my choosing, so I suppose it’s not that surprising that I enjoy it). And on top of that, I live in the city I love most in an apartment I’m happy to wake up in each morning to do a job I created for myself. This makes for a predicament, because not only am I unable to stay still, I actually WANT to at the same time. I both love and loath doing the same things day in and day out in the same locale.
I’m not sure why I’m always looking to move on to new things. Could be boredom, curiosity, or impatience. Or the simple fact that change is freeing and I’ve never been able to stand the feeling of being trapped, which comes along with anything with an air of permanence. Fresh starts have an unmistakable attraction... free of all duties and debt, unfettered by past dependencies and obligations. I want nothing more sometimes than to sell all of my possessions, break the lease on my apartment, load my car and lead a nomadic life, sacrificing stability for adventure. But that might be a highly questionable decision.
Anyway, it’s certainly not a fear of commitment in the traditional sense. I’m unshakably committed to everything that is important to me, like my lifestyle choices and loved ones. I got engaged 2 weeks after meeting my husband and never experienced even a shred of doubt, and that was more than 2 years ago. I strictly adhere to my values and never have any inclination to ditch those for new ones. And it’s definitely not because I only like the feeling of starting things and then abandon them. I love the feeling of finishing things just as much as starting them (if not more so). I have no problem with persistence and always follow things through to the end.
So, that’s my dilemma. I need to find a way to reconcile simultaneously thriving on change and routine, and being pulled toward both novelty and nostalgia.
I fully understand that this isn’t a real problem. Still, I can’t be the only one bothered by this type of disposition.
OK, so I’m not that old. I’m 28, but that’s pretty much 30, and it seems like a lot of life has passed. It feels like a lot of different lifetimes have passed, really. Maybe that’s because each segment of my life (which tend to last 1-3 years) is drastically different from the last, and is usually pretty eventful. This trend will likely start slowing down, since I’ll no longer be running off to grad school or moving places on a whim. I’m sure there are plenty more life events left though, just new phases of them. I’m still trying to figure out how to stay in one city without getting restless, which I’ll have no other choice but to cope with when a baby enters my life. No matter how much I love a place, I can’t seem to help feeling the urge to try somewhere new, which is probably just an old habit that needs breaking. Anyway, that’s kind of beside the point, because I live where I want to be, which is undeniably a good thing.
Anyway, back to the point, I’m getting old, and it’s really pretty great. I know you’re supposed to be bitter about your 20s being almost over or something, but I’m just looking forward to my 30s now. My decade of adulthood has seen a pretty steady succession of life improvements (which involved one or two or a lot of mistakes) that have me now feeling better than any year previous.
Here are the reasons for that:
1) I’m more responsible
I no longer embark on reckless activities in squalid surroundings. I’ve found it to be true that untethered 20-somethings don’t always take the best care of themselves. I’ve crawled out of bed hungover at 3 o’clock in the afternoon to make Top Ramen for breakfast and then gone back to sleep. I’ve slept many-a-night on the floors of filthy apartments in shady neighborhoods, on carpets that have never seen a vacuum, in clothes from the day before, intoxicated. I’ve taken drastic measures to prolong laundry day... the list could go on, but it doesn't paint me in a very pretty light. But now, I sleep nights, in a clean bed, in a well-kept home, next to my husband. I’ve officially become a good housekeeper. I buy groceries on a regular basis and cook meals from scratch almost daily. I’m even starting to prefer hotels to couch surfing, despite my miserly nature. I’ve all but stopped putting myself in perilous situations and sordid environs.
2) I’m healthier
I actually care now. Ten years ago I was eating mostly deep-fried animal flesh, trans fats, and refined carbohydrates in meals that started with the words “Big,” “Double,” and “Jumbo,” and complained about walking 2 blocks. Five years ago I was vegetarian but still consumed mostly sugar and hardly enough to survive. Three years ago I would binge eat candy and bagels one day and walk 20 miles the next on an empty stomach to not feel guilty about it. Today, I’m a vegan who won’t touch high fructose corn syrup or partially hydrogenated oils and actually pays attention to things like vitamins and minerals. I eat moderate amounts frequently and maintain a healthy exercise routine.
3) I’m less angsty
I just don’t hate things like I used to. I’m finding myself rather fond of places I used to despise. This could be for two reasons: 1) I’ve long since figured out that leaving a place or situation is so much more effective than staying and complaining about it, and 2) having moved so many places now, it's getting really easy to notice everything because everything is different everywhere, rather than take anything for granted, so I appreciate even the subtlest of things. Granted, this is easier to do when I’m a visitor in these places and no longer stuck in them. This kind of goes for anything: If I don’t like something, I change it, and I’m finding more and more to actually like. All that being said, I’m still kind of a bitch sometimes.
4) My recreational activities have changed
This has less to do with why things are better and more with just being an indication that I am, in fact, getting old. My idea of fun has shifted. What’s fun for kids isn’t necessarily a riot for me. What’s fun for teenagers is just annoying. And what’s fun for 20-somethings makes my stomach turn. When asked whether I want to go to a water park or a roller coaster park, my answer is now: “I'll puke at one and swallow pee at the other, so whichever you find less repulsive.” When asked if I want to go out drinking, I recall about an equal sense of vertigo and nausea. My love for concerts is still as strong as it ever was though.
To sum it all up, my progression of lifestyle transformations has resulted in the following: I’ve matured to have more self-control, less apathy, more appreciation, less angst, and more responsibility, and I really think this year will be better than the last. I still need to reach a liberated state of enlightenment though.
The only thing: When the hell will the acne stop? Wasn’t this supposed to disappear like the moment I received my high school diploma? I swear I’m going to have breakouts on my dead body. And since I seem to have transitioned from what was intended to be positive to the image of pimples on a corpse, I think it’s best I stop here.
