I had this vision of myself at this age when I was eight-years-old or so. I spent so much time worrying about what life would be like as I approached 25. I wondered if I’d be strong enough to build a life for myself. Back then I thought the 20s would be this magical age of adulthood, when people work important jobs, get married, have babies and buy houses. The “future” seemed like a strange world to me then, inhabited by unfamiliar people who have dinner parties and carry around credit cards. I also thought that we’d all travel around on hoverboards (ala “Back To The Future, Part II”), but that’s another story altogether.

I’ll be 25 in a few months, and neither the home ownership, nor the hoverboards are true. In fact, after a quarter of a century I’m still waiting for when I’m going to feel like an adult.

I wonder what the eight-year-old me would say about all this. What she would think of me now. Did I do her justice? Have I disappointed her? Would she admire me or just think I’m a tool?

Life didn’t happen like she thought it would. The crossover into “adulthood” didn’t come with fanfare and fireworks. It occurred in the quiet solemn moments, at times when I recognized my priorities had suddenly realigned. There was no threshold to crossover, the milestones in my life came and went just like the other days, until I looked back and realized I had actually become an “adult.” How sad my eight-year-old self might be to realize that those once seemingly enormous moments were mostly just hype.

Last Friday I finished my master’s thesis. After weeks of writing through the night I finally shut my lap-top at 6:00am that day, just as the sun came up over a still, misty Scottish morning. It wasn’t the big occasion I envisioned it to be. I didn’t suddenly feel any wiser or older. Nothing was different, except for the fact that I felt a little shell-shocked and extremely tired. It was quiet and I was alone. There was no congratulatory committee to initiate me into this next phase of my life. Business rolled on as usual. I simply went to bed to sleep for a few minutes before having to get ready for work.

This wasn’t the big event in my big, adult life that my eight-year-old self imagined. Honestly, my life hasn’t turned out how I initially envisioned it. Sometimes I think it’s turned out better. I may not have a mortgage or an extremely influential job yet. But I have so many adventures; the support of a group of intelligent, thoughtful, and fun friends; and the freedom to explore my endless possibilities. And for now, that is alright with me. The big adult things will come someday, but chances are they’ll appear quietly, without any big announcement.

If we met, I’m not sure what the eight-year-old me would have to say about this future version of myself. One thing I do know is that I’d take her aside, let her know that she shouldn’t worry so much about growing up, because I have so much to tell her.

One Response to “Quater life questions”

1. This Ordinary Day » A, B, C…Arabic Says:
   November 19th, 2009 at 12:00 am

   [...] is my second master’s degree. After finishing my first,  for which I researched and wrote about Arab portrayals in American cinema in a post-9/11 [...]

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