On the Edge of 30

“As I grow older” was the phrase I used to start the last sentence in my previous post.  With the full knowledge that I’m 29 and will be turning 30 in just about 7 months, I’ve been thinking about many subjects surrounding age and maturity. 

I think a lot of it started when I was toying with the idea of living in Seoul sometime in the future, primarily because I had recently had a great night out to places I had never even been to in Seoul.  I thought, “You know, there are probably so many amazing clubs, restaurants, and other nooks and crannies that I will never even know about in Seoul.”  Then, I realized, I’m starting to get too old for partying and clubbing.  I would say I stopped partying real hard around the time I was 24, but even just partying on Friday and/or Saturday can take it out of me for two or three days at a time. 

Then I had a realization that I’m losing touch with youth culture via today’s newest slang.  I saw the slang phrase “Turn down for what?!” and had to look it up (it means essentially, “Why should I take it easy?  I’m partying hard and having a good time!!!”).  “Am I starting to become…UNCOOL?!?!” I thought.

These more superficial thoughts then turned into a different subject: my 20s.

I would say that, as a whole, my 20s have been incredible.  I had four amazing years at university, and also taught English for a year in China, a year in Chile, and two years in Korea. By the end of this year, I will have traveled to 19 different countries (having lived in 4 of them).  I’ve met many wonderful people from around the world.  I’ve also grown emotionally and mentally, though I would say that I still have a lot of growing to do.

In my mid-twenties I had to allow myself some time to find direction, as well as have a serious relationship, in order to realize what I want (to travel, to teach English abroad) and don’t want (serious relationships, to be static, to get settled down).  I’d say that time was probably the point in my life when I had the most emotional and psychological growth, not to mention the fastest.

One of my biggest fears is growing older and regretting my life, or at least parts of my life.  I’ve been reading (sometimes plodding through), off and on, a philosophical work called “Either/Or” by Soren Kierkegaard.  It’s often regarded as one of the most important and influential philosophical works of all time, especially considering that Soren Kierkegaard is often regarded as the godfather of existentialism.  The basic premise of “Either/Or” is that one can either choose to live an “aesthetic” life (governed by the desire to fulfill sensual desires…not just food, drink, and sex but also including a deep appreciation for art, etc.) or an “ethical” life (governed by moral duty, such as getting married and having children).  The basic implication is that in choosing one or the other, one will regret not having lived the other life.  So far, there hasn’t been a synthesis of the two that has been offered to the reader, and I think there might not be.

While many of my friends are getting married and even starting to have children, this has not affected my non-desire to get married or have children.  A non-desire that I've had since I was about 17 or 18 years old.  I will admit there is an undercurrent of implicit social pressure, however, the flow of which I can feel about as much as tiny fish nibbling at my toe.

Today, I read an article written by an acquaintance of mine.  In the article, she interviewed seven different travelers.  I think almost every person she interviewed had gone to university, graduated, gotten a good-paying job they hated, and then quit their job to travel.  Some of those people ended up starting their own businesses abroad, while some of them are just working at hostels or bars.  Nevertheless, all of them were happy. 

I know myself well enough that I know I wouldn’t be happy married, having children, or perhaps even working in the United States for an extended period of time.  Who knows?  Maybe some day in the future those things will appeal to me, but I see them being the last things on my mind for the foreseeable future.

I’m happy for my friends who are happy living that life.  I THINK I can understand what they value in that life, but I just know it’s not for me.

I’m in the process of convincing myself that going to graduate school is a wise decision in the long run, but I also feel like I’ll missing out on time for adventure and exploration.  Being 30 when I start graduate school, I will hypothetically not be finishing until I’m 33 (if you also include some time for receiving a teaching certification).  That is three years of adventure and exploration that I will be missing out on, not to mention debt that I’ll be accruing. 

My intuition hasn’t done me wrong in making big life decisions yet, but I feel like I will have to adjust the frequency just a bit to be able to make the next big life decision or two.

A Little Gossamer

Hard to believe, but my 2 years in Korea will be coming to an end in almost exactly two months (my last day of class is August 25^th).  Right now, I’m looking at my schedule and realizing that almost every remaining weekend I have in Korea (that would be nine, but who’s counting?) is already filled with some event or trip.  Lately, I’ve already been reminiscing about my time here, especially my first year.  My first year occupies my mind as a perfect, ethereal time in my recent life – as if it were a dream.  I think my second year has definitely teetered towards being more “real” and imminent in my memory, but maybe after I leave Korea it will occupy a space amongst the gossamer of the first year. 

I remember feeling the same way about my year in China as I do about my first year in Korea – it’s almost as if it’s a dream that never actually happened in real life.

I don’t know exactly what made my first year here so special, but I can surmise that it had to do a lot to do with two factors: 1. everything being so new and novel, and 2. the company I kept.  The first is self-explanatory: living in a new country means that you will have new experiences.  But a year’s time is more than enough time to adjust to living in a new country.  As far as the second one is concerned, I think that the dynamic that Kate, Liz, Daniel, and I had (and later on, Colin) was a very special one.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a group of friends that were so close to each other.  I don’t mean that I haven’t had close friends, because I definitely have, but that I’ve never had a group of friends that were so close to each other.  I usually become close friends with one person in a social group, and then remain an acquaintance with the other members of that group.  Or, in the case of my main group of high school friends, I become closer to a few in the group and don’t feel as close to the others.  I guess since there was only four (and five) of us, that allowed us to get a lot closer to each other.  However, I don’t think that’s the entire story by a long shot.  I think our personalities, senses of humor, and our neuroticisms interweaved and interlocked with each other’s in profound ways.  I’m not sure if I will experience having a group dynamic like that again, at least for such a short period of time. 

Besides the two factors mentioned above, there were just some memories and moments that seemed to have that ephemeral and transcendental quality that I often talk about: when time seems to slow down and, rather than being occupied by the future or the past, you are completely in the present.

One of these moments that is foremost in mind is when I went to Busan for four days by myself after returning to Korea from my winter vacation in Vietnam.  I distinctly remember strolling along Haeundae Beach while listening to My Bloody Valentine’s album, “mbv”, a breezy, beautiful, and highly textured album.  I specifically had the song “She Found Now” on repeat.  While listening to this and walking on the beach, life seemed light – as if I was walking in clouds.  Not because I was ecstatically happy (or unhappy, for that matter), but because I was in such a reflective mood while also being totally in the present.  I also had these same sorts of feelings when I was at Haedong Yonggungsa in Busan, which is a temple built right against the sea.

Another one of these moments was when I was in Gyeongju with Kate, Liz, and Daniel.  As the sun was setting, we were walking at the edge of a gigantic park in which tons of people were with their families and loved ones relaxing and flying kites.  It was the same sort of feeling: ephemeral and transcendent, but totally in the present.

As I grow older, it becomes rarer and rarer that I have these moments.  It's hard for me to put myself completely in the present, because I feel as though my mind is always working overtime, especially concerning making plans for the future.  Even though the moments are few and far between, I cherish each one of them.