When I turned 18 last year, the pure panic of time running out came creeping up on me, and metaphorically choked me just slightly to give me a foretaste of death, which I was now one year closer to. Naturally, I decided to write a blog post about what I had learnt so far, only to make myself believe that my four year old Self was right about the belief that turning 18 automatically makes your genes turn you into some wise war survivor with endless knowledge and stories to tell the oh-so naïve and clueless kids. However, what was hidden in my subconscious was one important fact: I am one of the naïve and clueless kids, who would like to suck out the knowledge and wisdom out of every breathing thing and Google search bar. So in honour of my limited brain, here's everything I wish I knew by the age of 19, but don't:
Will there ever be certainty in life?
Does certainty exist or are we doomed to float through life as cluelessly as a stick in the water not knowing where the stream will take it? I always hoped that by this time, I'd have all my shit together and figured out what the next five decades of my life will bring in terms of my forever fragile living and financial situation. To my four year old self's disappointment, my future is more uncertain than when I went to nursery and at least enjoyed the certainty of knowing that my grandmother would definitely bake apple crumble the following day, if I only asked her nicely. Instead of being comforted by that certainty, I'm stuck in the middle of the obligatory existential crisis of just praying to all the potentially existing gods that my university choices won't entirely fuck up my future. At least there's certainty in knowing that nothing will ever be certain; or perhaps it will be, what do I know. (You get me now?)
How do I have fun, enjoy life, stay up late, but at the same time resist the granny urge to go to bed early to avoid waking up as a zombie?
I feel like as a teenager (and holy shit this is the last year of my teens what the actual fuck) you're always expected to have an endless amount of energy, when in reality, my batteries last just as long as those of my iPhone, which we all know isn't exactly impressive. Encouragements telling you 'you've got to live' and 'you can sleep when you're dead' have only contributed to making me feel like I'm not taking advantage of being young, and the comfort of not having to worry about life's biggest mysteries such as babies and taxes. Going out for a drink and staying up late with your friends is all fun and games for the first hour, but if I'm honest, I'm not always entirely sure if what I'm doing is what I want. Perhaps I'm just in denial of the fact that I'm a natural granny when it comes to sleep, because I actually really love the idea of getting to bed early, excited to get up in the morning to enjoy the rising sun over the horizon, while sipping on some green tea and eating my delicious prodigy of breakfast porridge. God, my seven year old Self would despise me.
What jeans size and style fit me perfectly?
Can someone please tell me that I'm not the only one whose one of many definitions of hell is to go shopping for jeans? It's a constant struggle of liking what I see, but what I see doesn't seem to reciprocate my feelings for it. I'm not entirely sure for how much longer I'll be able to put up with the disappointment of having legs that don't fit into a world, that either accepts my thighs or my hips, but never both at the same time. Is there a pair of skinny jeans out there that won't expand after the first time wearing it, and won't contract either while I do so, making me feel like I'm about to get eaten by a living being consisting of fabric, without a pulse. Jeans definitely make it on top of my list of life's greatest mysteries, perhaps even right before the unsold riddle of how the hell my phone survives for another hundred years when having 1% battery left. Life's confusing, man.
How can people under 35 afford a car when I have to think about whether I should go for cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner (again)?
This is going to sound like I'm just jealous of all of the people, who already own a car by the age of 18, on which note I can tell you that hell yeah I am. While I'm 19 and still believe I'm one of the biggest dangers to people on the road, and possibly also foot path (I hold my breath at every roundabout), there's other people who've been excited to drive their car for several years now, the only thing stopping them being their age and the law that's against letting people of endless confidence drive at the ridiculously young age of 16. I don't know about you, but I'm more concerned about whether I get enough shifts this week so I can treat myself to some organic peanut butter (who can relate?). There's no way I will make space for a car, let alone car insurance, in my Excel Budget Plan. Walking and taking the bus is way more eco-friendly (and saver for anyone involved really) anyway. Save money, save the planet. Go green, kids.
How do I stop my unhealthy relationship with peanut butter?
This might not sound like an insignificant problem to you, but just the fact that I mentioned peanut butter in the previous paragraph shows how it takes up too much of my life. Yes, peanut butter, especially the one consisting of peanuts and salt only so it won't give you cancer like everyone else apparently does nowadays. I justify my obsession by pointing out that it actually has a lot of health benefits. Nuts are a great source of protein and healthy fats, it's good for your heart and definitely even better for my sanity, and apparently even helps protect against Alzheimer's Disease. I might or might not have just googled the last fact to justify my obsession for the high calorie spread that's making up too much of my current nutrition. However, I might or might not give a single shit about it, because secretly, I don't even want to know the answer to this question. It seems like a toxic relationship, but at least I'm happy. Right? Right?
At what point will my brain decide to turn me into a mature almost-adult?
Knowing at what point I'd have to pay taxes (not that I know how to do that in the first place) and being able to mix the right kind of drinks that just about help me to stay sane (Manhattans, or any Whiskey with coke) are probably the closest I've come to feeling like an almost-adult. What I keep telling people about myself is that I used to believe that turning 18 meant your genes would magically agree that you're an adult now, as if my DNA gives a single shit about rules and regulations written down on a piece of paper. To my disappointment, I've realised that there's a lot I have to take control of myself, which mostly means I have to pretend to become an adult until I am one. There's a very good chance that the real truth to discover in life is that none of us really grow up, and it's all just an act we put on in order to impress each other and make it in life, whatever that means. But until I find out, I'll try to at least appreciate the fact that I can make a semi-good omlette, while also ironing my shirt at the same time. That's relatively close to being an adult, don't you think?
What it is that a 19 year old should know?
As I am writing this, I am wondering if me worrying about the wrong things prevents me from asking the right questions, getting too caught up in mysteries that shouldn't hold any significance in my life. After all, what I've learnt from taking my first comfortable walk on the path of journalism is that the best stories don't appear from getting the right answers, but from asking the right questions. So what questions should I be asking at the age of 19? What is it that I should be worried about? Or is worrying the wrong approach in the first place? All I'm hoping for at the minute is that when I look back on this post in a year from now, I'll be, well, first of all, alive, but also that I might have found some possible answers, and in the best case, perhaps even ask the right questions.
