The Quarter-Life Crisis

A few weeks ago I wrote a half-baked, half-serious idea for a short film. It was all about Dominic, a man struggling to accept that he was growing into a monotonous, fun-sapped, 9-5 working adult. For Dominic, the penny dropped as he went to choose which cereal he was going to eat one morning.

Inspiration is more often than not drawn from your personal experiences. I'm not dissimilar to Dominic. For me, the penny dropped after moving back home after three years of being a student. I had been putting it off for as long as possible, spending the last seven weeks after finishing my studies living with absolutely no purpose. In that seven weeks I have become a 1940's Los Angeles detective, become a woman trying to escape from a diabolical set of test chambers, and become player-manager of Juventus, where I won the league and cup double. Better yet, I did all of this sat in front of my television, with a PS3 controller in my hand.

However, after seven weeks, even the Playstation loses its appeal, and before I knew it I was waving goodbye to student life about two stone heavier, two inches wider and with a beard. I'm a 21-year-old University graduate. Christ, I'm an adult.

It doesn't feel good either. At the moment there is a hollowness, knowing that the easy life is behind me for good. I liked the easy life, for the most part it treated me well. I've sorted myself out a job, and unlike summers gone, I can't run away again after a few months. This time it's a much longer commitment, in a few short weeks I may have earned some money, but will I be happy? I'll be like Mark Renton, when he moves to London and becomes an estate agent in Trainspotting, only I'll be in North Devon and not an estate agent (and not recovering from a chronic Heroin addiction), I'll be Matt Renton.

We've all heard of the phrase mid-life crisis. I've not experienced one, but my readings from the television, the general public and the film American Beauty have given me some opinions. It's when things stop working and you can't do anything about it. It's when you realise you've probably wasted the best years of your life. It's when you buy a sports car in a shallow attempt to make yourself appear young and cool. Right now the only thing stopping me from having a mid-life crisis is my age, and the lack of sports car.

However, while I may be having a quarter-life crisis about moving back to Devon and settling down, it can only be a testament as to how much I enjoyed university life. Sure, if the hangovers are anything to go by, I've probably shaved a few years off my life. Sure, I've endured an incredible amount of shit from people ignorant towards the idea of higher education, and sure, studying at an arts campus has meant I've met an incredible amount of hipsters. But overall, I have had an amazing time studying a fascinating subject around some incredible people.

And on that rare positive note, I should probably end this piece. I don't start work for another two weeks, so in the mean time there's nothing left for me to do but pick up a PS3 controller and brutally kill a space city of hideous aliens. Why let student life end if you're not ready for what's after it?