I woke up this morning and I am 27 …

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The serene view of the Luxembourg garden that I was enjoying while I was reflecting on my “youth”…

And it is a bit shocking actually, how did I get to be 27? But yesterday I was so young, I was still a teenager, I was still in my early 20s and now I am not. I am in my late 20s, a tad too close to 30 and wow how did that happen?

Growing up, we are given standards, milestones and goals that should be reached by a certain age, whether by our families, by society, by ourselves and even by nature itself, and usually we set sail aiming or at least hoping we would reach them.

We are told we should be there, we should do that, we are held against certain expectations and standards that may no longer be a reflection of this world. Not to further philosophize the most philosophical issue there is, which is life, but if we dig deep into the basis and origins of these expectations we find there is a lot of room for restructuring. The thing with being 27 is that it is too close to 30; the thing of being too close to 30 is that it is a decade too far from 20. It is amazing how we go / expect to go through in our 20s. Sometimes, it seems to me that it is too much to go from being a quasi-adolescent to having a Masters with a career path, a stable relationship and perhaps a kid or two, all in one decade.

Or maybe that’s just the reality that I seem to refuse to accept – I do not know!

But what I do know, is that there is no point for me to have gotten a Masters if it wasn’t in the program and city that would make the experience. It is pointless for me to have wasted my most energetic and talented time for a job that killed my ambition, only to finance a cookie-cut house in a cookie-cut suburb, all of which things that I could have had by now if I wanted to. And sometimes, I wonder what my 27th birthday would have felt like and I doubt it would have been the tranquil, OMG it is the best birthday ever birthday. And while that would be the perfect world for some, it just probably isn’t the right things for me.

The thing is I love that I can be in Paris, today. I love that in a year from now I could be doing a Masters in philosophy or working a job I want or being in another city. I love that I do not know where I am going to be this summer because it means that I could be anywhere. I love that I am alone because it means I can be alone.

But what I do not love so much is being made to feel guilty about it, even if not by specific individuals but by myself, society and everything around me.

I woke up today and I am 27, really how did I waste all this time?

I wasted my time getting a university degree, I wasted it working, organizing and volunteering, I wasted it moving apartments, cities, and continents, I wasted it on buses, planes and trains, in Paris, Portland, Beirut and Vancouver, I wasted it learning to understand and appreciate my family and my surroundings, I wasted it reading, I wasted it writing, I wasted growing up, I wasted it maturing… And if I have the option I would waste all over again, and the only responsibility I have is to make sure that the next 27 years, if I am blessed with that many are wasted just as well!

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