Sometimes, you just have to go somewhere and fly kites.
I have spent much of my life being the youngest person doing things. I was young when I interned on the radio, I was young when I worked in the bars, I was young when I took over the job at Seattlest. And since the age of 20 or so, I’ve stopped telling people exactly how young I am, because I don’t want them to judge me or my achievements based on that fact. Because a lot of 24 year olds are hapless, stuck in perpetual adolescence, and unmotivated. I am not.
So last week, when I wrote this piece about being childfree by choice, the part that made me the most nervous was unveiling my age. But I figured few people I knew would read it.
And then it ended up on the Daily Beast. Thanks, Andrew Sullivan.**
But now, the cat’s out of the bag, and it’s true: I am only 24 years old. It costs me more to rent a car, I was born in the late 1980s, I didn’t get to vote for Al Gore, and I graduated high school in 2005. Happy?
But really, to me, my age has been a big part of why I’m doing pretty well. I graduated from college in the worst possible time, but my youth has made me a valuable asset to many of my workplaces. Coupled with the fact that I actually have a work ethic (thanks Mom and Dad!), this seems to be going well.
Which is all to say, young, aimless, drifting people of America–get it together. Your age is no excuse. There is no better time to get your damned life started than when you are young.
**also, actually, thank you. Because that is amazing.