adulting

Whether it’s moving to a different country, starting a new career in a completely different field, or even something tiny like how to compose that text to a friend or which movie to see, decisions big or small can wear you out before you even have a chance. Below are some questions to help you think through tough decisions. But first, keep in mind: no matter your choice, you will most likely be alive when it has run its course. And you will most likely still be you. Deep breaths. Keep reading.

I know, it's Monday. BLECH. But, that also means it's time for #MondaysWithMatt.

In the wake of America's "crisis of adulthood" and in the middle of a city known for Peter Pan Syndrome, I find myself feeling that I too have gotten an extension on my adolescence. It has become a time for me to heal, center myself in a way I never could in childhood, and figure out what I want for my life.

Those who would find themselves genuinely excited about simple, fun things are often written off as losers with nothing better to do, while the jaded pat themselves on the back for how mature and intelligent they so obviously are. However, the longer you look at it, the more you begin to notice that it’s quite the opposite.

I’ve never had any serious issues with past roommates, whether they’ve been friends, family, or someone I found on Craigslist or something. I consider myself really lucky in that way; I know there are horror stories out there. But, having lived with my mom for almost a year now, I’ve realized just how much of a burden it can really be.

I’ve been 20 for, like, a whole month now — which is the most adult I’ve ever been. I’m certifiably ancient. Upon reflecting over these two years of arbitrary official adulthood, I thought to myself, “Self, you have so much to offer the world! People certainly want to hear what you have to say!” And so here we are. (Approximately 3 out of 5 Republican uncles will think this intro is dead serious.)

"I love my kids. I don’t love Portland more than my kids. What I loved, besides books and donuts and peonies, was being alone. Or at least alone without kids. So not really alone as much as just not being screamed at or hit by a couple of tiny tyrant assholes."