"I will buy the flowers myself."
I've been thinking about the future and what "growing up" really means over the past few months.
Since May, I've graduated from college and begun law school. It's more than that, though, I think I've really grown up since this time last year. While it may appear as if I face my studies and, generally, my life in the same manner as I did before, this isn't really the case. Law school is more important to me than my previous studies were. Not to say that I didn't enjoy my studies in college--I did very much--it's just that law school is more about "success" than college was, and I feel more compelled to be "successful" than I did before. Also, I feel like I organize my time better; I've been going to bed sooner and generally getting more done during each day.
The way I face my studies isn't the only thing that's changed about my daily life--I also face my friends, new and old, in different ways. When experiencing something new, particularly a new social situation, in the past I felt the need to get to know everyone and make new friends. While I am happy to be meeting new people and making friends, it's not my goal anymore; it's just something that happens naturally. While I don't have a lot of time for friends because of law school, my closest friends are the ones I already have; my high school and college friends are the ones I'm primarily focused upon. In any of my previous experiences, while the friends I already had remained important, new friends drew my attention to a rather large extent. Now, I'm finding that I don't feel the need to reach out and make lasting connections to as many people as I did before. While this may be a factor of whom I'm surrounded with at law school, I don't really think that's the primary reason.
Really, I think that I'm approaching my law school experience in a way that I haven't approached others--from the standpoint of an adult. I already know how to be a student, I already have good friends, I already have an adult lifestyle set up for myself; for these reasons, law school isn't something for me to form my life around, but something to enhance the life I've already made for myself. Also, even though my parents are economically supporting me to a great extent, it's different than in college. Now, my finances are concretely split from theirs, and while they are helping me out (and only because I'm in school) they are not fully supporting me nor are they aiming to support me to the standard that I was previously accustomed to. Granted, this is not something I mind at all--in fact, I'm shocked and thrilled that they are supporting me at all. However, it does make me feel much more adult. In sum, I have a new approach to school both in terms of how I view my academics, as well as the way that law school fits into my social life and I have a newly adult practical means of living my life.
I am also feeling more like an adult by looking at the lives of my friends. In some ways, as college falls into the past more and more, I feel disconnected from my friends who are still in college. While they are still some of my closest friends, there seems to be a large difference between a college student and a law student--there is some sort of maturity divide. I think that the end of college "what the fuck am I going to do with my life" decision is one through which individuals gain a great deal of maturity. This decision makes one take stock of his or her interests, strenghts, weaknesses, wants, and needs in life and to then choose a single path based upon those things. As one gets older, one is forced to narrow one's view of oneself--a law student cannot also be a PhD student; a married man cannot also be a bachelor. With graduation comes adulthood, not because of one's age, but because of one's maturity, which is accomplished by making decisions regarding a life path. Also, as I see my friends getting married and having children, I realize that I, too, could have those things at this stage of my life. While I do not think I'm in the right logistical place in my life to be married, emotionally, I think that if I met the right person I *could* make that commitment. That freaks me out, because in some ways, I still see myself as very immature.
Another thing that makes me realize that I'm getting older is the way I relate to my family members. My cousins are, generally, between 10 and 20 years older than me; however, I have really come to see them as peers. Sometimes, when I compare myself to them, I feel very young...but when I compare my life to theirs, I realize that we are really at very similar stages.
Finally, I find myself more willing to make friends with older people than with people my age or younger. There's something great about meeting people who feel the same way about adulthood, as in: "How did I get here? I like it here, but wait, am I really this old?!" Especially at law school, I've found that most recent graduates don't really see themselves as adults yet--they still seem to consider themselves as college students. I was ready to graduate; I valued my time at NYU very much, but I was ready to move on. Therefore, it's hard for me to relate to people who go back to their undergraduate institutions every weekend or so to "party" or "hang out." I'm over it. Perhaps that's why I've felt more compelled to befriend older people.
However, as I've gotten closer to Nancy (the woman for whom I am a nanny), Beverly (the woman for whom I am a law assistant), and my own parents, I've come to worry about adulthood in a new way. Both Nancy and Beverly are divorced, and my parents recently separated. Talking to each of these three intelligent, well-educated, and successful women has sort of freaked me out. The general sense I get from each of them is that they aren't happy--they are content, but they aren't excited to live their daily lives. Instead, they see each day as a large "to-do" list; they don't face their days with hope, but with solemn acceptance and surrender. These are women I respect, these are women who made choices that I would make if in their positions.
I worry, will I become these women? Will I be 40, 50, or 60 years old and have no regrets, but also have no hope? Will I see life as merely something to survive? God I hope not. I live my life with passion, I live for the possibility of further happiness.
I was watching "The Hours" tonight with my roommate, and each time I watch that movie one part strikes me. Clarissa (the "modern day" woman) is sitting on her bed with her college-age daughter, and she's telling her daughter about when she was happy. She says that she remembers standing on the beach in the morning and thinking "this is where happiness begins," or something to that effect. She talks about how she thought that happiness was ahead of her, that she had hope and excitement for what was to come. However, Clarissa then says that happiness wasn't ahead of her, but that the moment she experienced on the beach was, in itself, happiness. "That was it, that was happiness..."
I wonder if in 10, 20, or 30 years I'll look back at this time in my life and think "that was happiness." While I am happy now, I hope that I will be happy then, as well. I hope that I continue to face life optimistically, with excitement, and with hope for future happiness. I never want to merely "accept" my life for what it is--I never want to be only "satisfied" with my everyday existence. Once one is satisfied, in my opinion, they have nothing more to strive for; and what, then, is the point of living? Perhaps I'm just too existentialist, but I believe that the point of life is to live it meaningfully, not to just trod along in one's habits. We must always have something to strive for, or at least *I* must always have something to strive for. For me, the idea of living life in stagnance is equatable to death. So I hope that as I continue on this path of adulthood, I am able to not only "keep the hope alive" but live in a way that actualizes some of those hopes, as well. I respect Mrs. Dalloway, but I never want to resign myself to being her.
Since May, I've graduated from college and begun law school. It's more than that, though, I think I've really grown up since this time last year. While it may appear as if I face my studies and, generally, my life in the same manner as I did before, this isn't really the case. Law school is more important to me than my previous studies were. Not to say that I didn't enjoy my studies in college--I did very much--it's just that law school is more about "success" than college was, and I feel more compelled to be "successful" than I did before. Also, I feel like I organize my time better; I've been going to bed sooner and generally getting more done during each day.
The way I face my studies isn't the only thing that's changed about my daily life--I also face my friends, new and old, in different ways. When experiencing something new, particularly a new social situation, in the past I felt the need to get to know everyone and make new friends. While I am happy to be meeting new people and making friends, it's not my goal anymore; it's just something that happens naturally. While I don't have a lot of time for friends because of law school, my closest friends are the ones I already have; my high school and college friends are the ones I'm primarily focused upon. In any of my previous experiences, while the friends I already had remained important, new friends drew my attention to a rather large extent. Now, I'm finding that I don't feel the need to reach out and make lasting connections to as many people as I did before. While this may be a factor of whom I'm surrounded with at law school, I don't really think that's the primary reason.
Really, I think that I'm approaching my law school experience in a way that I haven't approached others--from the standpoint of an adult. I already know how to be a student, I already have good friends, I already have an adult lifestyle set up for myself; for these reasons, law school isn't something for me to form my life around, but something to enhance the life I've already made for myself. Also, even though my parents are economically supporting me to a great extent, it's different than in college. Now, my finances are concretely split from theirs, and while they are helping me out (and only because I'm in school) they are not fully supporting me nor are they aiming to support me to the standard that I was previously accustomed to. Granted, this is not something I mind at all--in fact, I'm shocked and thrilled that they are supporting me at all. However, it does make me feel much more adult. In sum, I have a new approach to school both in terms of how I view my academics, as well as the way that law school fits into my social life and I have a newly adult practical means of living my life.
I am also feeling more like an adult by looking at the lives of my friends. In some ways, as college falls into the past more and more, I feel disconnected from my friends who are still in college. While they are still some of my closest friends, there seems to be a large difference between a college student and a law student--there is some sort of maturity divide. I think that the end of college "what the fuck am I going to do with my life" decision is one through which individuals gain a great deal of maturity. This decision makes one take stock of his or her interests, strenghts, weaknesses, wants, and needs in life and to then choose a single path based upon those things. As one gets older, one is forced to narrow one's view of oneself--a law student cannot also be a PhD student; a married man cannot also be a bachelor. With graduation comes adulthood, not because of one's age, but because of one's maturity, which is accomplished by making decisions regarding a life path. Also, as I see my friends getting married and having children, I realize that I, too, could have those things at this stage of my life. While I do not think I'm in the right logistical place in my life to be married, emotionally, I think that if I met the right person I *could* make that commitment. That freaks me out, because in some ways, I still see myself as very immature.
Another thing that makes me realize that I'm getting older is the way I relate to my family members. My cousins are, generally, between 10 and 20 years older than me; however, I have really come to see them as peers. Sometimes, when I compare myself to them, I feel very young...but when I compare my life to theirs, I realize that we are really at very similar stages.
Finally, I find myself more willing to make friends with older people than with people my age or younger. There's something great about meeting people who feel the same way about adulthood, as in: "How did I get here? I like it here, but wait, am I really this old?!" Especially at law school, I've found that most recent graduates don't really see themselves as adults yet--they still seem to consider themselves as college students. I was ready to graduate; I valued my time at NYU very much, but I was ready to move on. Therefore, it's hard for me to relate to people who go back to their undergraduate institutions every weekend or so to "party" or "hang out." I'm over it. Perhaps that's why I've felt more compelled to befriend older people.
However, as I've gotten closer to Nancy (the woman for whom I am a nanny), Beverly (the woman for whom I am a law assistant), and my own parents, I've come to worry about adulthood in a new way. Both Nancy and Beverly are divorced, and my parents recently separated. Talking to each of these three intelligent, well-educated, and successful women has sort of freaked me out. The general sense I get from each of them is that they aren't happy--they are content, but they aren't excited to live their daily lives. Instead, they see each day as a large "to-do" list; they don't face their days with hope, but with solemn acceptance and surrender. These are women I respect, these are women who made choices that I would make if in their positions.
I worry, will I become these women? Will I be 40, 50, or 60 years old and have no regrets, but also have no hope? Will I see life as merely something to survive? God I hope not. I live my life with passion, I live for the possibility of further happiness.
I was watching "The Hours" tonight with my roommate, and each time I watch that movie one part strikes me. Clarissa (the "modern day" woman) is sitting on her bed with her college-age daughter, and she's telling her daughter about when she was happy. She says that she remembers standing on the beach in the morning and thinking "this is where happiness begins," or something to that effect. She talks about how she thought that happiness was ahead of her, that she had hope and excitement for what was to come. However, Clarissa then says that happiness wasn't ahead of her, but that the moment she experienced on the beach was, in itself, happiness. "That was it, that was happiness..."
I wonder if in 10, 20, or 30 years I'll look back at this time in my life and think "that was happiness." While I am happy now, I hope that I will be happy then, as well. I hope that I continue to face life optimistically, with excitement, and with hope for future happiness. I never want to merely "accept" my life for what it is--I never want to be only "satisfied" with my everyday existence. Once one is satisfied, in my opinion, they have nothing more to strive for; and what, then, is the point of living? Perhaps I'm just too existentialist, but I believe that the point of life is to live it meaningfully, not to just trod along in one's habits. We must always have something to strive for, or at least *I* must always have something to strive for. For me, the idea of living life in stagnance is equatable to death. So I hope that as I continue on this path of adulthood, I am able to not only "keep the hope alive" but live in a way that actualizes some of those hopes, as well. I respect Mrs. Dalloway, but I never want to resign myself to being her.