I sure don't know what it is...

Something’s missing, and I don’t know how to fix it.

John Mayer’s tune about life’s tribulations reads like my life story right now.

I’m not alone. I wish I was…because then I’d know I was down because I couldn’t find a friend around, to love me like they do right now.

Last fall, I took a writing course, with the full intention of starting a book project, characterizing the mid-twenties slump that more and more twenty-somethings have been experiencing. Soon thereafter, work picked up at break-neck speed, and I rode those coat-tails for as long as I possibly could.

Alas, it’s with a heavy heart I must report, mostly to myself, that it’s time to hop off the roller coaster and exit the park. I don’t even like roller coasters…well, not real ones, anyway. Figurative ones are OK…except when they lead to ambiguity, uncertainty, and the ever-dreaded disillusionment.

Something’s missing…and I don’t know what it is.

This was the precise struggle I was faced with a few months ago. I got derailed, and now I’m back.

Friends….check.

Money….check.

Well-slept…check.

Opposite sex….well, not quite, but that’s quite alright.

Guitar…an equivalent, so check.

Microphone…likewise, another check.

Messages waiting on me when I come home….close enough.

So, where’s the hopeless discontent coming from? It’s so much harder to fix a problem that you know exists, but can’t articulate or pin point.

Acknowledgement is the first step, right? So, what’s the second?

Quarter Life Crisis, what?

I’m 25 years old, having just stepped over the threshold of that quarter-century milestone that scares so many of my peers (I’d be lying if I ever said that it didn’t worry me just a bit, too), a few months ago. I have my dream job…the one I confidently declared would indeed be mine at age eight. I graduated from a relatively well-ranked college, with a relatively versatile degree, and with very little debt accompanying my name. I have a good group of friends who I’ve met through my experiences in life and who have all helped me in some way or another to recognize my full potential. I have hobbies that keep me busy, ones that help me realize my passions and invigorate in me a sense of accomplishment and commitment that very few things can give me.

So, what’s the issue? It seems as if I’ve really got everything figured out, and yet I have this nagging desire to know what the future holds, an annoying sentiment that constantly has me wondering where my life is ultimately headed. It’s an all-too-familiar feeling that has plagued my conscious thought for the last few years. For so long, this familiar was exciting, welcoming, fascinating – I held to the belief that things would work out in the end; so, I was just going along for the ride, enjoying the view. But, after twenty-some odd years of structured existence, I am left in a completely unstructured world for the first time, with the unfamiliar ability to make every conscious (and even unconscious) decision directly impacting my life.

And it’s daunting…incredibly so.

Growing up, I, along with many of my other generational peers, have had many options and choices: apple juice or milk, soccer or gymnastics, piano or violin lessons, state school or out-of-state school. For me, personally, these choices provided broad experiences, memories, and skills that will last me throughout my lifetime. As college was well underway, I realized that I had just as many of those decisions waiting to be made on the other side – I panicked. But, I quelled my fears, knowing that my internship would likely see me through to a job that I would completely enjoy, and that’s all there is to life at that point, right? Graduate from college, land a plush job…live life.

A little over two years ago, I had the fortunate opportunity of landing my dream job: the one I had visions of at age eight…and then again at ten…and then again at 14…and another time at sixteen...and still to this day. So, why am I so keen on knowing what the future holds? Why, though fully content with my present position, am I even remotely concerned about where I see myself in 5, 10, 15, or 20 years?

As I’ve struggled to answer these questions in the past few months, I’ve come to realize that this feeling is all too prevalent for my peers, as well. They, too, are struggling with the familiar thoughts and emotions that the uncertainty of our twenties brings. We lead such brick-house lives, in that everything is given to us or decided for us; we’re told exactly what to do and when to do it. The choices we are given, the decisions we make for ourselves, are still within the confines of a societal and parental structure that is deemed appropriate by those around us. We have all been brought up in a day and age where the options are limitless, and yet we still are not given much guidance in understanding and focusing our efforts towards creating meaning lives for ourselves. My generation is plagued with materialistic thoughts and expectations. We have all grown up with a plethora of electronics and goods in our homes to supplement our lives. Our parents worked tirelessly to provide us with the very best they could afford.

And yet, many of us embark on our journeys into the “real world” with little to no idea of what awaits us. We continually seek a sense of purpose in our lives, a way to understand our place in the world. And when we realize that the size of the world is inversely proportional to the likelihood of our making an impact on it, we’re left with a feeling of confusion and restlessness to actually redefine our sense of self.

So, what can we do? How can we take all of the vast number of resources available to us and turn it into our driving force? How do we use all of these things to our advantage to understand the world, ourselves, and ultimately navigate out of the murky waters of our twenties? What can we do differently as we approach this incongruous juncture in our lives to arrive on the opposite end of our 20s as driven, focused individuals whose professional and personal lives are not individual driving forces, but together help us understand our relevancy in the world?

I realized as these questions formed in my mind that if the answers were simple, and those I looked to for support for every other problem had the answers, then I’d have been golden maybe a few months, or even years, ago. I was curious what majority of my peers had the same struggles and thoughts that I did and what types of concerns they had. I wondered whether other generations felt pangs of the same sort in their twenties. I thought about our society and my upbringing, interested in what factors could have possibly led me to feel this way and how things could have changed to help prepare me more for the “real world.”

Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that we need a means of proactively addressing this struggle that we twenty-somethings face, a struggle that is more commonplace than many would care to admit or acknowledge. We need a means of preempting these feelings of hopelessness, listlessness, and frivolity. We need to not only understand the individual sources of these personal feelings, but develop a method for coping with their effects and eventually overcoming them effectively and efficiently.

With this in mind, I've decided to segue the purpose of this blog from just an avenue for person venting to perhaps a constructive analysis of the factors that influence the upbringing and development of those fondly dubbed, "Generation Y." As this site develops, I hope to add to it not only my own thoughts, but those of others around me. Perhaps eventually, it could turn into a source of added perspective to a topic of discussion that, though widespread, is often discounted or avoided.

A Farewell

Earlier this evening, about 830p, as I sat at the local Starbucks, chatting away with a very good friend from high school, I happened to check my E-mail on my phone. A little surprised to see a new message in my work inbox so late on a Sunday evening, I opened the message to discover that one of my co-workers, Ben, had passed away. My mind whirling with questions and rampant thoughts, I sat in sheer shock.

"This is just so crazy," I uttered, over and over for the next hour.

It's been almost 4 hours since I received the news, and it's no less shocking. As I sat there, trying to absorb the news, I thought about the night, just a few weeks ago, when Ben joined me and another friend for dinner. And then my mind wandered to last week, when I chatted with him online, inviting him out to a local bar for happy hour the following day. I am still having the hardest time thinking that that same person is no longer with us.

Ben was one of the nicest and most polite people I've ever met. With a smile on his face, he always greeted me with a, "Hey, Madi, how's it going?" every time we saw each other. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen him not smiling. His gentle and quiet nature really had a way of putting people at ease; and I was a bit surprised to find that he had a great sense of humor, when he opened up. I'd only just gotten to know him past our working interactions, and as another co-worker said tonight, I think my greatest sadness in all of this is that I will not be able to be friends with him and get to know him further.

The last few weeks have found me in a decent amount of inner turmoil. I've found myself struggling with an ongoing process of self-identification, attempting to define myself and that which makes me content. This emotional churning culminated in a lengthy venting session via text message to a friend, who offered me some advice: live in the present. This adage has survived centuries, and I'd heard it before, but it hit me for some reason that night. The next day, I found out a good friend needs to have an ultrasound for a medical issue - to rule things out, but still a little bit of a scare nonetheless. And now, this.

It really puts things into perspective for me. I realized tonight how easy it is to get caught up in the minute details of life, and forget to actually live. I realized how petty the complaints I've voiced over the last few days have truly been. And I thought about the legacy that we are all given the opportunity to leave when we move on.

I remember watching the movie Dead Poets' Society when I was in 8th grade, and really being struck by the phrase that became a cornerstone of the movie's premise: Carpe Diem. Never have I truly felt its fundamental nature and intent until tonight. Though sometimes tedious and tumultuous, life is such a real blessing. Every moment should be valued and appreciated...and lived. We never are guaranteed our next breath, so we should enjoy the present to its fullest extent.

It's amazing to me how little impact words like that have had on me in the past. And yet, after recent events, I can't help but feel, to the core, its fundamental message. Though I've only known him a short time, Ben has unknowingly inspired me to be the driving force behind the change I've been longing to and struggled to make in my life. The value of this thought alone I cannot even articulate in words, especially given the struggles I've had with defining and acting upon my thoughts and ideas in the recent past. So, thank you could not even begin to express the gratitude and appreciation I wish I could articulate to him in this very moment.

Rest in peace, Ben - whether you can realize it now or not, you've made a really huge impact on my life, and I thank you for it. You will be missed dearly.

(False) Sense of Confidence

At dinner tonight with an old high school friend, I brought up the topic of the consulting industry and its appeal to many of our friends. My friend is in charge of the marketing aspect of her clients’ projects, so she’s quite familiar with helping her clients market their products and services. She expressed interest and a desire to eventually be a part of a consulting company herself, and as we discussed I began wondering:

What exactly is the appeal of this particular industry to so many, specifically so many of my generational peers?

During the last semester of college, I, too, was drawn by the challenging work environment that consulting offered (specifically, strategic management consulting). I applied and interviewed with a number of firms and ultimately decided that the world of strategic management consulting wasn’t completely suited for me. I have no regrets in that decision, as I’ve held fast to the rationale I gave at the time: the industry is cutthroat and perhaps a little too fast-paced for me.

After dinner, I really got to thinking about how so many of my friends in my generation have expressed interest in pursuing a career in consulting. I mentioned this to another friend, who responded with, “Maybe no one wants to actually solve their own problems.”

“So, does that mean we, as a generation, have been lulled into a false sense of security and confidence that we can actually solve other people’s problems?” I asked.

His response: “Maybe it’s about finding something meaningful. Maybe the idea of solving other people’s problems is more meaningful to our generation.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I mulled this quick dialogue that I’d just had.

What values are we instilled with as a generation? The desire to contribute and meaningfully in all we do has popped up in many generational attributes and characteristics lists. We’ve grown up being told we can solve the world’s problems, that it’s our duty – and why shouldn’t we believe it? We’re at the forefront of technological and societal development. We’re at a pivotal juncture in leveraging all of the resources available to us and creating solutions for some of the most pressing issues of our times. Our intrinsic value systems have effectively guaranteed that we feel some sense of responsibility, collectively as a generation, to use our talents, skills, and resources to meaningfully contribute to society.

However, this very notion, I believe, leads us into a second layer of this discussion.

At what expense have we been instilled with these values? This very question lends itself to identifying the factors that have contributed to our upbringings. We’ve been told from day one that we can achieve anything we set our minds to. If we have the talent, we can use any number of resources to achieve our goals and become successful. Our educational system is designed to enable this to prove true: we work hard, focus, and earn grades that reflect our understanding of topics and concepts. Many of our parents rewarded us for attaining our goals, and continually reminded us that we were capable of anything we set our minds to. So, when we received those awards at school, or the allowance or new toy from our parents, we gained a sense of self-confidence that translated to other aspects of our lives. As the list of achievements grew, so did the level of self-confidence…to the point where we now have a sense of self-confidence and assurance that we can combat any challenge that comes our way, solve any problem that we face – so much so that it seems many of our generation are actually interested in making problem solving for others their career.

But, what keeps us from wanting and trying to solve our own problems?

As I’ve talked to many of my friends, I’ve realized how many of us are struggling to make sense of our lives and understand what we want out of it. It’s interesting that although we are given the support and encouragement from a very young age to pursue our ambitions, many of us come face-to-face with the realization that the limitless options available to us perhaps impede the progress we desire to make in “figuring our lives out.” How is it that we find curiosity and interest in helping others’ solve their problems, and yet we (especially those of us who hit this rough patch in our twenties) find it difficult to logically approach our own personal predicaments? Moreover, if we can’t solve our own problems, how can we possibly help others’ solve theirs, regardless of whether they are personal or professional in nature? For that matter, does it make a difference if they are personal or professional in nature – are these mutually exclusive in this discussion? As these questions sprung to mind, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps the positive reinforcement we’ve received at a young age is actually counterproductive in the long run. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps we have inadvertently developed a false sense of self-confidence in our abilities and potential.

So, my question is: what are the implications of this, if it’s true? Is this false sense of confidence actually dangerous? Moreover, what factors have contributed to this in our development – societal, educational, parental?

A Bittersweet Farewell

As I write the following, one would find me sitting at the airport in a city and country that have given me a great deal in so little time.  In the past two weeks, I have not only explored the recesses of two magnificently beautiful cities, but I’ve also been fortunate enough to glimpse inner recesses of my own being, with a perspective I could not have imagined or planned for (nor did I).  When I was informed of the duration of my stay here, I will admit to some initial reservations.  Of course, I do not fault myself for this minor ignorance, as I believe drifting outside one’s comfort zone always produces such reactions.  However, in hindsight, I am convinced that my stay would not have been remotely as exhilarating and inspiring had I not had the opportunity to explore the locations and experience the sights and sounds of the locales.  The following is thus a brief account of my stay in one of the most charming and culturally rich cities I have visited: Montreal (with a brief foray to account for my travels to neighboring Quebec City, as well).

I arrived here on a Sunday evening, and after gathering my luggage and vehicle for the duration of my stay, I set off for my hotel.  Upon arriving, I checked in, ascended to the twelfth floor, and turned the handle, as the key card unlocked the door.  The room was pleasant, but more astounding was the view from the half-circle window, which spanned across one entire wall.  As I stood in the middle of this wall, I was mesmerized by the juxtaposed sight before me: ahead of me, I saw Mont Royal rise above the towering high-rise buildings; to my left was a quaint church, whose exterior radiated a charming, old-world feel; and to my right lay the most spectacular sight I have seen in some time (though, I will provide you a brief preview of accounts to come by saying there were several subsequent locations that provided rivaling views) – the Cathedrale de Marie Reine-du-Monde.  With its circular steeples and stunning architecture, I could only gaze in sheer amazement at its elegance and beauty.  Taking particular note of the serenity of my surroundings, I settled in for the night and prepared for the week of training that lay before me. 

The following week continued to provide me with a sense of personal wonder.  I say this in order to encompass many of the thoughts that whirled through my head in the subsequent days.  Having already been in Montreal for a two-week period earlier in the year, I found myself feeling more settled in the city, which in turn allowed me to better acquaint myself with the beautiful sights and sounds that it had to offer.  The drive to work and back each day, in itself, revived in me a feeling of sheer gratitude and amazement at the position I found myself in each day.  Fine dining and the opportunity to practice my French language skills further added to the delightful experience.

Perhaps the highlight of my entire stay, however, was a brief foray to a neighboring city, about 150 or so odd miles northeast of Montreal, Quebec City.  My desire to visit the city prompted thoughts of my weekend plans even before my departure to our northern neighbor.  Coworkers provided me with brief accounts of their visits, and my decision was finally solidified during the week prior to my trip, after speaking with a native of the city, who provided me with a list of all of the interesting sights to take in. 

Having never taken a solo road-trip in the past, I found myself giddy with excitement as the day approached.  I gathered a few “road-trip-friendly” items early on a Saturday morning and found myself driving northeast by 8a.  After pouring over the numerous printouts that the Quebec City-native I befriended had given me, I decided the night before to travel first to the Montmorency Falls – a beautiful waterfall, just northeast of Quebec City.  After a three-hour drive, I found myself in the parking lot of the Montmorency Falls Park, ready to ascend some thirty odd flights of stairs to arrive at the top of the falls.  The natural beauty was nothing short of spectacular; though, I will admit that traversing the suspension bridge atop it was something short of terrifying!  After satisfying my inner photographer’s quest for the perfect shots, I decided to make my way over the body of water surrounding Quebec City (coincidentally, this is the start of the Atlantic Ocean), towards a small, country island, from where I was able to take in gorgeous views of the Quebec City area. 

With two of the three “must-see-locales” checked off my list, I began the trek to Quebec City.  As I drove through its streets, the city’s architecture and layout exuded a charming, quaint, old-world European vibe; though interestingly juxtaposed with this nostalgic air was the presence of modern stores and eateries.  Arriving at what seemed to be one end of the city, I was welcomed by the towering pillars and castle-like steeples of the Chateau Frontenac, which I learned previously holds the title of the most photographed hotel in the world.  After parking, I ventured through a small, pedestrian walkway, between the cobblestone-like brick sides of two buildings, and began speaking to a man selling cityscape sketches and paintings.  We spoke of my visit to the city, of the artist whose sketches I purchased, and of the title my home has earned (“The Fattest City” – something we are all undoubtedly proud of, I assure you!) – all in French.  It was a brief conversation, but provided me with a sense of pride and accomplishment, as I could visibly see a change in the ease and fluency I possess with the French language.  I continued on, trekking across the city, and down to the waterfront, where I visited a row of antique and souvenir shops.  Eventually, after satisfying my curiosity and adventurous spirit, I decided the time had come to dine and make the drive back towards Montreal.  I found a quaint restaurant, adjacent to the Chateau, where I dined on delicious vegetable soup and an apple-cinnamon crepe.  Satisfied, I strolled back to my car and set off for Montreal.  En route, I recounted the day’s events in my mind and continued on, with a sense too complex and personal to qualify with words.  Suffice it to say, I left Quebec City with a feeling of gratitude for and awe of not only the beauty that surrounded me throughout the day, but also the personal journey I found myself on.  Though the excursion was brief, I traveled on knowing that despite this fact, I was able to sail past my reservations and boundaries, expanding those very limitations I’d previously placed on myself. 

The following day, I visited two churches in Montreal: L’Oratoire de St. Joseph and La Basilique Notre Dame.  The Oratory, which sits atop Mont Royal, provides spectacular views of the Montreal landscapes.  The inner chapel was small, but inviting, drawing images of what I would imagine a European countryside chapel to look.  The Basilica was perhaps the greatest surprise to me, as its modern architecture and simple room décor were quite the stark contrast from the great chapels I’ve seen in the past.  Descending the stairs from the Basilica, to my left I found a Nativity museum, where Nativity scenes from various cultures and regions were arranged together to showcase the very beauty of art and its associated mediums; sculptures of clay, statues of wood, paintings of oil, and figurines of shell, among others, made up the unique displays.  I completed the trip with a visit outside, ascending the Basilica steps, in order to capture fantastic views of the island of Montreal.  Descending the steps of the oratory, thoughts of awe and inspiration spiraled through my mind.  My thoughts rested on the fact that the oratory is a shining example of the power of devotion and passion held by numerous individuals – the very tangible result of the very best in human nature.  I turned and marveled one last time at the beauty of its interior and exterior and ventured across the city towards the Notre Dame Basilica. 

The stone support pillars just outside the front entrance of the Notre Dame Basilica provide the illusion of an invisible barrier, between the relatively harsh city life and the sanctity of the church itself.  Walking through the physical gates, I entered an ornate wooden door, and through to the inner chapel.  What greeted my eyes was nothing short of breathtaking.  Ornate stained glass and intricate wood works were abundant throughout the interior, with a small staircase (with its own elaborate design work) spiraling up the left side to upper levels.  I walked down the center aisle, after snapping several photographs, and gazed in absolute splendor at the sight before me.  A concaved wall of stained glass provided a magnificent backdrop for the altar straight ahead.  Behind me, the largest organ I have ever seen stood perched on the third floor.  After taking a few more photographs, I walked to the back and sat down on a pew.  I reveled in the sheer beauty and was (and still am now, in recounting the experience) rendered speechless: I literally sat transfixed for several moments, unable to capture in words the sheer brilliance of the sight before me.  A short while later, I exited the building, more inspired and amazed at the positive influences of human nature. 

The final week in Montreal passed by as quickly as the first.  I hailed this visit for the numerous “firsts” it provided me: I experienced my first winter snowstorm, my first solitary road trip, and even my very first lonesome dining experience.  What I have gained from the entire experience, I do not believe I could ever properly assign words to, for the faith and focus it has restored to my life cannot truly be qualified in mere words.  I realize these revelations (particularly because I’ve been unable to formulate words to describe them adequately) may not come across as astounding or inspiring as they are felt here in my heart and mind; I hope, however, that through my words and images (which, if you haven’t seen, feel free to ask for), I have been able to convey the very deep meaning this entire journey has had to me.  Though two weeks, in relation to the lifetime one has, seems undeniably short, I’ve realized in that very same amount of time that one is capable of accomplishing more than he or she could ever imagine.  Ultimately, the beauty of human nature, I’ve determined, is the unpredictability that it brings into each of our lives.  Nine months ago, I identified personality traits that begged for attention; six months ago, I realized, though I’d intended to pay particular attention to these points of amelioration, I’d done a seemingly poor job of doing so; three months ago, I came to the conclusion that the detour from the road I’d laid for myself was acceptable; one month ago, I was surprised to see that, although I had veered from the path I’d imagined myself traveling, the one I’d taken ultimately stationed me at the same end point; and now, I sit here knowing that in spite of the six-month detour I eventually found myself having taken, I have grown more than I could have ever imagined.  And it is ultimately with this in mind and heart that I bid Montreal a bittersweet farewell.