Okay, so I’ve got think up something new for my blog profile…At a slightly ripening age of thirty five, I definitely no longer qualify for the term “Quarter Life Crisis.” Not that I’m having a crisis at all… or am I? Which leads me to wonder if psycho-therapists, a.k.a. “shrinks” only have the Mid-Life Crisis labeled after the recently labeled “Quarter Life Crisis,” which they sooo creatively coined into the acronym ‘QLC” (it’s in WIKIPEDIA!), does that mean I can’t have a crisis in between?
Let’s assume first that at this age, I am having a crisis of some sort… should I call it the “One-Third Life Crisis?” But that doesn’t sound anywhere near as cool or hip as the prefix “Quarter-Life,” does it? Should I assume to consider myself having a “minor” crisis between the “major” milestone crises? But who has a right to call my crisis “minor”? Assuming I am having a crisis in the first place…
So what is a “Something-Life Crisis” anyways…?
I’ve done my share of looking around, asking around, reading around, and yes, reflecting… sounds deep, huh? But seriously, I have the answer… okay, I have AN answer, not THE answer. The Iglesia ni Cristo guys claim to have that… no, wait… every devout Catholic claims that, too… and so do the nice Muslims who sold me compressed dibidee porno that was so pixelized that pubic hairs look like funky Lego blocks… no wait, that was JAPANESE porno… anyways… yeah, they all have THE answers… oh, and so do the BAD Muslims, who hop on board airplanes while probably thinking that Kamikaze should be considered an Iraqi word…
So therefore, I do NOT have THE answer, just AN answer… yep, I have my own version to what these crazy-ass crises are… here’s my skinny…
The QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS:
WHEN…
The alleged Quarter-Life Crisis age coverage is pretty brief… usually somewhere in the mid-twenties… Usually, after a couple of years of supposedly hard work at some company, a young person thinks he/she has become sooo the man (or woman), and proceeds to have delusions of future grandeur… or in some cases, or most cases here in the Philippines, one finds one’s self having spent a couple of very professionally formative years toiling away at a call center for the easy money, then coming back out into reality with the only personality development being an ersatz Southern American drawl often marred by still-poor grammar… developed skills? Uhm… does becoming ergonomically adapted to wearing a headset count? Does creative insomnia count? Does the superpower to stare at a computer monitor pretending to do something world-changing count? No, no and no.
HOW…
The amusing thing about all this is that nowadays, more than ever, one’s chosen college degree does not necessarily predicate what one’s future profession will be. There are degree holders in computer science, who have pretty much any industry to choose from, there are licensed medical technicians who have become very successful real estate salesmen, or in my case, architecture graduates who have become advertising executives. Even lawyers, who have eventually dedicated their time and lives to professional writing. And many other odd transitions…
"...nowadays, more than ever, one’s chosen college degree does not necessarily predicate what one’s future profession will be..."
Thus, after a couple to a handful of years in any field, the hapless young professional still has the delusion of having the supposed world for his/her taking… Which way to go? What other things to do? What other opportunities to try and grab? Not very different from a buffet at a five-star hotel, where cuisines of every sort are literally right under your nose. They look and smell damn good, heck, they probably ARE good. And you want to try everything. But a couple of platefuls later, while looking longingly at the different buffet lines, one starts feeling his belly is getting stuffed. Then at some point, one concedes that one cannot try everything today. Hopefully on another visit one will sample the Hong Kong section of the buffet, or get a spoonful of that Thai curry, and maybe try a different flavor of those home-made ice creams…
So many goddamn choices…
WHAT…
But life is not exactly like that buffet. One can’t come back another day to try something different for lunch. Your gut can only take in so much, then before you run to the john to shit and make more room, they’re getting ready to clear out the displays.
So you’ve had one plate, you have maybe a couple more plate refills left in life, so you mull real hard whether or not you want more roast beef. But damn, that curry smells good, huh? Which line to hit… which line to hit…?
To sum up the most common estimated questions at this juncture in one’s life:
- What to do next in one’s life?
- Which direction to head?
- What should I grow old doing?
- Should I jump the gun and buy that nice second hand car?
- Should I keep at this low-end job, or finally join the family business?
- Should I finally ditch my long time girlfriend and come out of the goddamn closet?
- Or should I marry propose to her to shut everyone up, but buy my time and marry her after a few years so I can suck a few more dicks before I start crying myself to sleep every night (I can still head out and play in Bangkok!)?
So, the so-called Quarter-Lifer then starts wondering what direction he/she must take in his/her life. This is usually coupled with wondering what one thinks one really wants to do with one’s life…
NOW WHAT…?
At this point in my life, I have concluded that the world isn’t an altogether mean place and that there are really no genuinely bad choices except for a life of crime or prostitution (okay, even that last one isn’t so bad. Heh heh…).
But the choice of direction is an external thing. And the only way to shut one’s self up in connection to what choices one has made is to settle on what identity one takes for the rest of his or her young life. The critical decisions are internal matters.
At the supposed quarter juncture of one’s life, the biggest skill one must learn is resilience. Resilience to live with the consequences of one’s actions, then subsequently make the most of the supposed chosen actions. The resilience to realize that, like the hotel buffet table, everything was carefully prepared in the kitchen and that everything is good.
So you didn’t leave room for dessert so you can taste that mouth-watering mango-kiwi crepe? That’s okay, dude. You still walk out of there full and un-hungry. That peppery beef burp and after-taste? Consequence for too much roast beef. Get a mint and stop looking back longingly at the crepe chef…
The MID-LIFE CRISIS:
WHEN…
One’s supposed Mid-Life Crisis usually starts creeping in sometime in one’s late forties, all the way to one’s late fifties. Personally, I find this just a wee bit odd, since most of us won’t live to see the age of ninety, one’s supposed “mid-life” should ideally pop up somewhere in the late thirties or early forties… but never mind that..
HOW…
With the pace of life raging on ever faster, one’s Mid-Life Crisis kicks in almost always by trigger shock. Usually by the departure of the last child from the family home, that tragic first night when they find they can’t get their weenie up whenever they want it to, or even the sudden realization that he or she will never be able to afford anything more than a second hand Japanese compact sedan or less…
WHAT…
Essentially, I find that people who experience what could be considered a Mid-Life Crisis find themselves bitching about a ton of things that ultimately boil down to the whatever mix of the following questions and/or phrases:
- “I haven’t done enough in my life, but I’m halfway through it…”
- “I’m really tired, but I’m nowhere near what I want my life to be…”
- “I’m going downhill from here on, am I leaving anything of worth behind…?”
- (for men) “can I take Viagra and not get a heart attack?”
- (for women) “can my husband take Viagra and not get a heart attack?”
So based on my own most humble and modest analysis, people who go through Mid-Life Crises basically find themselves questioning their level of achievement, and their own grim assessment of some sort of failed personal legacy…
NOW WHAT…
I don’t really know people do to get over this, and being only thirty five I can’t even pretend to have a good enough guess. But I somehow believe that many people do not get over this stage. Leading to the next level of classification called the GRUMPY OLD MAN or NASTY OLD HAG phases…
* * * * *
I do not hold a psychology degree, nor any degree that qualifies whatever I wrote above. But more than anything, these are what have kept me relatively sane and happy. Worked for me, hopefully, they will work for you, too…
Oh, except for that mid-life crisis part… personally haven’t gone through that yet…
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