Quarter-Century Crisis (25th birthday=I am effing old)

The absurd has really been getting to me lately. They say ignorance is bliss—I often believe that. College and student teaching taught me all these stupid theories about how much life sucks. Well, that it is pointless. We weren't created with a meaning here.

Sure, it is at times optimistic: we weren't created with a meaning, but that can't stop you from creating your own. Why not do that—decide why you exist? What are you on this planet for?

Therein lies another problem. I hate making decisions. "Where do you want to eat?" or "How many eggs do you want?"

I know you can't tell me how many eggs I want. Only I can tell me that. But what if I just straight-up don't care? If eating one leaves me hungry, I'll eat soon. If three is too much, someone else will eat my leftovers. Well, I guess two it is.

The egg thing must be a metaphor for my life, see. I could exist doing many jobs. If I work at the credit union all my life, I'll be hungry for more. If I teach five English preps a day I will have leftovers I need help with (but in that case, no one will eat them).

I am struggling to find that two-egg part of life. I know life doesn't end because I've reached a certain threshold (quarter-century). I know life doesn't have goals and standards I have to meet like working at a credit union does. I KNOW THIS. So why do I feel this: ennui, dissatisfaction... the meh.

I just want to get over "it." But what do I want? What is it I am so desperate to "get over?"

Honestly, this wasn't spurred by my turning 25. I just like the catchiness of "Quarter-Century Crisis." Reaching this arbitrary descriptor allows me to bitch a little more.

KK

P.S.
Can I blame this on being American? That life is so easy for me I have to create problems? Yes... it's a plan. See, "The American Dream" dictates I have a husband, 2.5 kids, a house, a picket fence, etc... and I have none of those. I don't even want those (well... maybe I could use a house... for all my He-Man toys...). I don't want them now, and I don't want them later. So why do I feel this void for something I don't even want? Must be that damn consumer culture. I love to shop. Maybe that's the void I feel—I'm so broke I can't shop. Yeah, that's it.