Face to Face With My Quarter-Life Crisis

I assume there's a time in everyone's life when they come to the realization that they are getting old. I came to realize recently that most of my long-time friends are exactly where I would have pictured them to be at this age. Maybe not geographically- but in terms of relationships, careers, education. But every once in awhile someone surprises me. A couple that I always thought were perfect suddenly split up, someone's career takes an unexpected turn, someone has a baby. Fred and I left our friends Michael and Christine on Friday night after dinner. The four of us were exhausted. We had talked about going for drinks but none of us were motivated enough to move beyond the couch, so there we stayed until we decided, half asleep- it was time to head home. A symptom of early-onset old age, as I understand. But there is no greater indication that 'time is marching on' then when your crazy old roommate, 'Spacey Caycee' announces her engagement.

Caycee and I worked at IMAX together. We didn't really know each other all that well until word got around that I was looking for a roommate and had gone to such desperate lengths as to call up an ex-boyfriend to move in. I thought Caycee was crazy- but determined that it would be best if I weren't living with Jon alone. I'd like to say that once we moved in together, I realized that Caycee was not infact crazy, but just misunderstood. But I'd be lying. She's nuts. Barbie dolls with shaved heads and facial piercings left out as cat toys proved that Caycee and I had been very different little girls. I never owned a Barbie doll- soccer balls were so much more versatile. Our lives may have been simple had Caycee and I lived together with Jon. But somewhere along the line, we picked up another couple of roommates, Greg and Gerald. They snapped and moved out a month later. Apparently believing that Caycee's requests that they keep it quiet in chatting to each other on their computers till all hours were completely unreasonable. Exit Gred and Gerald, enter Rageful Scott. Caycee and I thought he was cute. Turned out he was a complete lunatic. Caycee was one of the closest witnesses to the ridiculousless of my flings that year- and has largely remained silent about the extent to which I embarrased myself. Thankfully. But if there was one person that I considered less likely than myself to settle down in a real relationship, it was Caycee. Not entirely surprising- she has been with Kent over five years now, but that in itself is pretty nuts. That's when you know you're getting old. When the person you consider the least likely to settle down, announces that they are. Damn it- we should start a pool. I'd be losing miserably- I also would have bet Diana to be a long-time single girl, and her and Jerod have been married over a year now.


Some people think too much. Others think too little. I believe I'm the former. Just as I think I've made some choices about my life, I talk myself out of it by examining other options. Or taking a step back and considering whether the choice I'm about to make will bring me closer to or further from my goals. Whatever they may be at that particular moment. Now that it looks like stability is just around the corner and my anxious nerves can calm themselves, I began to ponder exactly why I was looking for a teaching job to begin with. It's not what I want to do. I suppose it's closer than serving over-priced food at crappy restaurants though. I know full well that I'll need to return to school- part of me loves the idea of returning to the security of thick books and quantifying my personal development with As & Bs. Part of me dreads the student lifestyle. The instability, lack of funds. For awhile, I've contemplated returning to school in Psychology and pursuing a Master's. I've long thought about pairing the self-exploration of the arts with therapy. Not in the drippy Master of Fine Arts in Drama Therapy kinda way, but in the less obvious- Master's in Psychology - I have intelligence, an imagination and a BFA kinda way. So I begin the phone calls. McGill University pointedly informed me that I could not speak to an academic advisor until they had my 80$ in application fees firmly in their pockets. The woman refused to answer any questions, even regarding scheduling and the possibility of doing the program part-time. I crossed McGill off the list of school possibilities. If that's the snobbery I'm greeted with in making inquiries, they can take their pretentious reputation and shove it. I knew there was a reason I went to Concordia. They were happy to make arrangements for me to speak to someone. The University of Waterloo promptly responded to emails concerning their online Psychology program. As long as I never have to live in Waterloo, it looks like a good option. My mind was made up. This was going to be my course of action. And then I thought, hmm... maybe I'll go to law school instead.

Some article I read said that if you're having trouble deciding on a path, examine the books on your night table and extrapolate from them. So I looked at my night table. The Montreal Gazette, The Bell Jar, A Brief History of Everything, Laughing Wild, Guns, Germs & Steel. Okay.... hmm- current events, literature, philosophy, drama and anthropology. So I've learned I'm ADD. Apparently most artists are, not to worry. After spending so much time focused on returning to school, I suddenly began to wonder if these fields would lead me to the lifestyle that I wanted. I think I've established this year that I need to be mobile. I need to travel. I want to take off for months at a time, and bounce about here and there and everywhere. The idea of being one of those office people that crams their life into their two weeks of vacation every year is absolutely painful. It's just not for me.