Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about how the 20-something years are the new adolescence. It seems like everywhere I turn, there’s an article about how people my age are growing up more slowly than ever. Oh, and (apparently) we’re also whiny, immature and needy.

I have pretty mixed feelings about all these theories. I think that almost every older generation has a tendency to criticize the current young-adult generation. We do things differently than our parents did, and our lives take different paths. But it’s important to remember our parents did things that were just as strange in their parents’ eyes. It’s a nice little tradition the world has got going.

On the other hand, as a college student, I do recognize that I’m in an in-between stage. Sometimes, I feel very adult and responsible. Other times, I think it wouldn’t be so bad to go back to kindergarten and have naptime every day. Oh wait, there’s naptime in college, too. Having one of those days where you feel like you belong more in middle school than in college? Here are a few tried-and-true ways to pretend you’re a grown up.

initiating the gallery...

Garnet is a student at Columbia University in New York City. She is “that person” who starts dancing at a party when everyone else is standing around, and if there were a Facebook stalking Olympics, she would be a gold medalist.  She also has a love for cheesy 90s music, and almost died of happiness when Vanilla Ice tweeted at her. Once. Follow her on Twitter @garnethenderson.

“I just cooked dinner for myself, and I didn’t even wish it was dining hall food.”
“I’m paying my bills on time this month – like a real adult!”
“I’m turning into my mother now that I’m out of college.”
“How adult of me! I went to a job interview!”

I can’t lie; I’m guilty of putting this idea of being an adult on some kind of pedestal. In fact, if my vocabulary was monitored like songs played on iTunes, it definitely would have the phrase “how adult of me” or just the word “adult” on the top of the charts. Here I am, dabbling with my big toe (not even my whole foot) into whatever adulthood really is, and I’m making a big stink about it.

For example, when I wear heels to my internship (hello – it’s not even a job!), I check myself out in the elevator door reflection and think to myself “How fashionably adult of you.” Funny enough, when I take the heels off after a long red carpet outing, I make fun of my old-college self, “Oh look at you, switching into your trusty Rainbows – the ones that accompanied you to nearly every class senior year.”

And trust me; you don’t even want to hear my adult-o-meter going off when I do household things, especially cooking. Whenever I make dinner for myself, I toot my horn like I just climbed the Mt. Everest of Italian cooking. In fact, I get so worked up over being this LSAT student by day, intern by choice, and wannabe chef by night, I spend hours searching for new recipes and I make out grocery lists ahead of time, so I can continue to evolve into a ‘real’ adult in the kitchen.

The other night though, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. How silly is all of this “adult” talk. Seriously. So many things that I am now calling “adult” are things that have been the norm for awhile. Like, my boyfriend and I cooked on a nightly basis all throughout college, but here I am, making the same meal that he and I have been making for over two years, acknowledging that I’m an adult simply because I made a meal for myself. Huh? What’s changed? Oh wait – nothing, really.

I have a diploma, and yes, I’m learning the ropes of the real world outside of college, but this doesn’t mean that I haven’t had an adventure or two into adulthood sometime in the last four years, so, why do my post-grad friends and I seem so amused with our new status? I don’t really know, maybe being out of that grungy college house makes it all feel more real. Or maybe society is changing.

Our parents’ generation regarded 18 as being a full-fledged adult. People used to leave the house once they turned 18, whether they were going to college or not, and whether or not their parents were going to support them. It was the way things were. Now, it’s the norm for 20-somethings to move back in with their parents after college, and it’s entirely more commonplace for parents to help financially support their kids – even ones that have jobs and no college debt! When I interned in New York City throughout college, I met so many women in their late 20s and early 30s who had their parents paying their rent, giving them allowances, and helping support their shopping habits. 30 years ago, parents would not be footing the bill for their 32-year-old daughter – no way!

So, does this make adulthood appear later in one’s life? Sometimes it seems like post-grad is the official wake-up call, but it doesn’t mean the idea of being an adult is something that happens overnight. It’s a gradual process, and maybe our generation is taking longer to make their way to adulthood than generations before us. Either way, I still think it’s funny how I can be so scared about “becoming an adult,” but yet so excited to charge into that realm when it feels right.

Maybe post-grad life gives us the best of both worlds – the cushioning of our parents and the exhilaration of kinda-sorta being on our own. Or maybe, because I’m scared/confused/lost/really missing college, I’m just trying to find something to get excited about.

Time flies when you're eating ramen and working 9-6.

A year ago I was packing up my college apartment, saving my most memorable theme party costumes (sexy dining hall worker didn’t go over as well as I thought it would), and crying in the most unattractive wipe-your-snot-on-your-sleeve fashion. As far as I knew it my life was completely over. I was jobless, destitute, and way too close to sober.

The only thing I had to look forward to was forcing my family to sit through Powerpoint presentations I made titled, “The top ten nights I should have died from alcohol poisoning,” “Nine reasons showing up to class drunk is only fun in the movies,” and “Any sibling that doesn’t get me a graduation gift shouldn’t act surprised when I ruin their wedding 10 years down the road.” I truly believed there was no reason to keep on living. And that was only reinforced when I was forced to sit next to a morbidly obese woman who took up half my seat on the plane ride home from Syracuse.

But yet I’m still here and alive an entire year later. And turns out, despite my best efforts to get a homeless man to push me in front of a bus last summer, life does go on after you graduate.

Somehow, during this crazy year that I partially blacked-out due to depression, I survived living with my grandparents for five months. I survived 8+ Craigslists-interviews-turned-murder-mysteries. And I survived having to tell people that I was interning after graduation. Sure there were tears and overly nostalgic Facebook wall posts and bitter feelings when your friends got hired before you did — but at the end of the worst year of my life, I’m proud to say I have an apartment, a job, and a 100% money back guarantee if E-Harmony can’t find me a husband before Memorial day.

Life after college is not what I expected it would be. I didn’t buy my work wardrobe exclusively from J.Crew and potential employers didn’t flood my inbox just because I had a bachelor’s degree. I didn’t go into my major after spending four years and three internships throwing myself into it. And I most certainly did not get a stable job with any sort of benefits (medical or sexual).

Here’s the thing that I wish people had told me when I graduated: have lower than no expectations, prepare for misery, depression, and a sudden obsession with the most emo Dashboard Confessional songs. Your frown will most certainly not be turning upside down. And then when you least expect it, you’ll be on your way to work one day or you’ll be reading Facebook statues about how much exams suck or you’ll be looking at pictures of your little sister dressed for a god-knows-what theme party and think to yourself, “wow I’m kinda of a grown-up and I kinda like it.”

Life after college is full of surprises. It’s about realizing that you don’t need to go out 8 nights a week and that you actually can survive on store-brand items.  It’s about having a desire to iron your clothes before you go out in public and it’s about narrating your blogs aloud as you write them in an English accent. It’s about coming to hate Sex and the City for making up a fantasy world that doesn’t exist and it’s about finding yourself attracted to the beggar outside your building that always calls you pretty girl.

I set out to fill this final blog with life lessons, inspirational quotes, and memorable catchphrases. But then I remembered that I’m just ending a blog series and not writing the Cosby Show series finale. I can barely get through a workday without taking 9 Facebook breaks, let alone leave my 6 loyal readers with any kind of worthwhile advice.

The best I can offer you is to always remember that a stitch in time, saves nine. But unless you’re a 19th century seamstress, I doubt that offers you anything. It’s time for me to let another clinically depressed post-grad take over my series. I’ve already moved on to better things…like sending in daily applications to be the next Activia spokesperson.

But if you’re determined to keep up with my life (or if you’re my mom who begged me not to use my full name online like I’m a 13-year-old girl posting bikini pics on Myspace), check out my brand new personal blog. It’s a sight for sore eyes — or so I say to myself whenever I look in the mirror after a good Saturday night.

For the first ten years of my life, my answer to the ever-so-popular question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” was always “a mermaid.”  I wasn’t joking, I did want to be a mermaid.  Living in the sea, long flowing locks, a singing lobster for a BFF….

Another ten years have passed, and my growing appreciation for my two, separate, functioning legs has put my PhD in mermaid out of the question.  College graduation is approaching and I am still questioning what I want to be “when I grow up.”  I knew all along my answer would change (along with my major…twice), but only recently has it hit me that the question itself would change too. 

It’s not only a question of “what I want to be when I grow up,” but the bigger question: WHEN am I grown up?!  I know what it feels like to be happy, sad, angry, etc, but what does it feel like to be grown up?  Will I just wake up one morning and feel different?  Will I think to myself, oh, maybe I shouldn’t be wearing purple sparkly nail polish because I am a “grown-up?”

The spark of my revelation you ask? 16 and Pregnant.  Forget NuvaRing, this reality show is my form of birth control.  A new season is about to air (tonight!) and I can finally devote my Tuesdays to scaring myself out of becoming one of those girls.  Great logic, or so I thought… until I realized it would be impossible; I can’t become one of them, I can never be in their situation because I am not 16.  I am no longer at risk to face the perils of teenage pregnancy because of the obvious: I am not a teenager.  However, the idea of randomly becoming pregnant is just as scary to me now as it was when I was 16.  I do not feel any more ready to give birth now than I did when I had braces.  I would still have a heart attack and possibly go in to cardiac arrest thinking about having to tell my parents of the news.

So when is the switch made? At what age will my mind-set change and I will consider the idea of pregnancy feasible, or even desirable? Or, at the very least, not something that gives me nightmares about trying to fit a crib into my teeny, tiny NYC apartment?

As someone who feels the need to have all of the answers, it is difficult to leave these questions unresolved, but the truth is that they are impossible to answer.  Feeling grown up is not part of a math equation and there is no magic light switch to make it happen.  Being grown up is having the ability to look back and realize how much you have changed. (Editor’s Note: And when you wake up at 11:30 on a Saturday and think about how much of the day has been wasted…)

In reality, I will probably not realize I am grown up until I am reading this article to my grandchildren explaining how I once posted it on a “website” on this thing we used to call the “internet” in the olden days. That is, if I ever grow up enough to have children.

In the end, as I analyze the situation I am starting to believe that at age 8, I was wise beyond my years.  Maybe being a mermaid would have been the perfect solution; life would be much easier if my legs were sewn together.

[It's pretty obvious that the average CollegeCandy reader has some very strong opinions. Opinions that she likes to share with everyone on the site. We love a strong woman, so we thought we'd give her a real forum to discuss her thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Every Friday I'll be featuring a hot topic (like losing our summers!) and leaving it up to you, the readers, to duke it out. So, read it and get your debate on in the comments section below!]

Let’s be honest – no one (at least no one who wants hot, dirty sex) waits until they’re 21 to try an alcoholic beverage. Alcohol is so ubiquitous at high school and college parties that the red plastic cup is practically the official symbol of underage consumption. And yet, even in the face of this almost universal fact, the legal drinking age in America continues to be 21 (as if we didn’t have enough problems getting our hooch!).

Now that the Amethyst Initiative - a group of over 135 US college and university presidents who want the drinking age lowered - is making the rounds, the debate has gotten even hotter – and since we’re the ones it really effects, it seems like it’s time we weighed in!

Believe it or not, there is an argument for keeping the drinking age where it is, and it’s even annoyingly legit. One of the biggest points is safety – The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration estimates that setting the drinking age at 21 has saved more than 25,000 lives since 1975 (about 900 underage drivers a year). Admittedly an impressive statistic, and since no one I know of is pro-car accident, it’s hard to argue against that point. I’ll also give them the fact that in the ’70s, when some states lowered drinking ages, car accidents went up dramatically.

Proponents of the current law also say that students of campuses or states that more forcefully restrict alcohol are less prone to binge drinking, one of the serious problems with underage consumption. And studies have shown that the younger you start drinking, the more likely you are to develop long term health problems like brain damage and substance abuse issues (which explains why I can never remember where I put my keys).

The truth is, most of the arguments against lowering the drinking age are based on the principal that younger people make poorer choices – and I’m not saying we don’t make bad decisions (like my hair, circa 2005 ) – most drinkers do their heaviest, most irresponsible drinking when they’re underage.

However, this is where we come to the big crux of the problem for many: in the US, we’re considered adults at 18 – we can buy tobacco products, own guns, get married, make all our own legal decisions and even choose to die for our country if it comes down to it. We are guaranteed these rights by our country, and yet this same government tells us we aren’t good enough at making decisions to handle alcohol. It’s a back assward stance, any way you slice it. But beyond my general annoyance at being told my decisions are crappy, there are also good reasons for lowering the drinking age beyond the legal mixed-messages.

Remember how those in favor of the current 21 law were saying that binge drinking is lower because of the law? Well according to studies, “among college-age males, binge drinking is unchanged from its levels of 1979; that among non-college women it has increased by 20 percent; and that among college women it has increased by 40 percent.” And while the number of accidents went up in the ’70s when the drinking age was lowered, this was also a time before airbags and mandatory seat-belts and the after school specials that drilled “don’t drink and drive” into our brains – all things that just weren’t there almost forty years ago. And many say that real problem today is not road safety anyway: it’s binge drinking - something that can only be solved by education.

Do you think that lowering the drinking age would help? Or would it just make things worse? Are we just to debaucherously into our booze? Or should it be a question of something other than age, like alcohol education?

I got a job!!!

All my tears, temper tantrums, panic attacks, stress-induced friend fights, and violent rages towards my parents turned out to be totally worth it. I’m on my way to getting a full time job. And by that I mean that I’m now working three freelance blogging jobs and making enough money to support myself for at least one to three months depending on how long I can sustain myself on a water and table scraps diet.

One blog is about the postgrad realty market, one is geared towards men’s humor, and the last is all about liberating and embracing a woman’s sexuality. So by the time I get done with a week of writing all three, I’ll be the only certified realtor that can make hilarious fart jokes while imparting the seriousness of bra burning. If that’s not a pick-up line in a bar, then cat’s got my tongue (I’m aiming to write for a blog entirely composed of idioms if anyone’s got a lead).

I excitedly told my grandparents over a dinner of boiled chicken and broth to which they responded with little to no enthusiasm, can you write that much? I immediately answered yes, of course I can write that much. However I started to question myself; am I capable of actually writing several different blogs? I mean this blog is easy. I just have to write about myself and truth be told it’s been a phenomenal therapy system for me since graduation. All I have to do is share my feelings and then the commenters provide the tough love solutions.

I’ve spent the last few months telling everyone that I aspire to be a fulltime blogger and now that it’s kinda starting to happen, I’m kinda starting to freak out. I have to really be an adult and create a schedule for myself. No more sleeping in until noon and spending my days sitting on a park bench insulting tourists in my head as they walk by in their heinous sneaker-dress combo outfits. No more half-assing work because I’m an unpaid intern. This is the real thing.

Then again, perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself and this freelance blogging is a good intro to the real world of working. I’ll be waking up earlier, dressing myself nicer (I’m pretending like it’s a REAL job), and perhaps start looking into getting some of that health insurance everyone’s been talking about.

The best part of getting these jobs is that next week when I go back to school for homecoming I won’t even have to lie about having a job. I just have to keep the bragging to a minimum about having three.

The only thing harder than saying goodbye to your roommate for the summer is packing up your dorm… and mopping all of the dried beer of the floor.  And scrubbing your desk where pizza sauce has been encrusted for months. And figuring out how to pack it all into your two-door.  Yeah, moving out sucks.  But moving IN with your parents again… well, let’s face it.  It rocks.

Here are my top ten faves about crashing with Mom and Dad for three months.  What are yours?

1.  You can live with your parents without looking like a deadbeat loser.

You have an excuse: You’re still in college and the dorms closed.  If you were 35 and working at the Venus Club and living with the ‘rents… you might belong on Jerry Springer.  But there’s nothing shameful about going back to your teenage years and living under their roof for one more summer.

2.  You’re a legal adult now.

Maybe your parents tried to force some strict rules on you in high school, and you vowed to move out asap.  But now, you’re an adult.  So even if they try to enforce a curfew, you at least have the “I’m a grown up” argument, which can be bolstered with “I just made Dean’s List,” or “In college, you aren’t keeping tabs on me and I made it home alive, didn’t I?” Plus, a lot of parents won’t even pick that fight, because they realize that you are an adult, you are a responsible collegiate, and they don’t want to know what happens on spring break.

3.  Laundry.

I don’t know what’s better, not having to pay for a load of laundry, or having the freedom of throwing your clothes in the dryer in the morning and leaving them there all day long.  Or using the dryer to get out the wrinkles in your cotton v-neck because you don’t feel like ironing.  Or being able to wash ONE shirt on its own because you reeeeally want it to be clean for the bar tomorrow night, but nothing else is dirty.  Idk, all of the above?

4.  You can spread out.

You can walk down a hallway without having to wear shower shoes.  You can watch a movie without worrying that your roommate will be studying.  You can use the downstairs bathroom when you’re downstairs, and the upstairs bathroom when you’re upstairs.  Ah, life’s little pleasures.

5.  Home-cooked meals.

Do I need to explain this?

6.  Home-cooked leftovers.

Plenty of room in the fridge to save tomorrow’s lunch.  Or breakfast.

7.  All of the amenities that are banned from dorm rooms.

Stove, hot plate, caged iguana, you name it.  You don’t have to hide the candles at your parents house to avoid getting fined or written up.

8.  All of your sh*t is already there.

You have to be selective when you move to the dorms, and only bring the stuff you’ll need (or think you’ll need), but everything you left behind when the spring semester started is right there waiting for you.  Go out and enjoy the weather – ride your bike, dust off your Rollerblades, look through your closet and discover all the random fun-yet-unnecessary things you forgot about because they wouldn’t fit in your Yaffa Blocks when you packed up a few months ago.  A personal fave? Discovering that an outfit you didn’t think you’d wear this semester is suddenly “in” again and you don’t have to buy a newer version.

9.  Reunions!

Most likely, you’re not the only one moving home.  Now’s the time to catch up with your high school pals, your former coworkers, and anyone else that you blew off when you were busy studying/partying away at school.  Plus, chances are, your parents already know your old friends, and will be thrilled if you have a few people over for a low-key night in.

10.  Ummm, can you say Rent-Free?

Take the time to save up this summer, because you’re going to have to shell out a few grand for housing next fall – and you might still have to share a room!  When you do move out on your own, that monthly rent check will be the bane of your existence.  Plus, you’ll have to pay for utilities, electricity, heat, water – not to mention hiring repair men whenever things get broken.  Don’t take your dad for granted this summer when he stays on top of replacing the light bulbs, mowing the lawn, and fixing the plumbing.

There once was a time when pornography was deemed dirty, sinful smut that would lead to hairy palms, blindness and a spot with your name on it in the hottest parts of hell. Fortunately for adult content fans everywhere, those days seem to be over. In what has to be the most sexual innuendo ridden article ever (subheadings include “Package Deals,” “Bottom Line,” and “Bang for the Buck”),  Advertising Age revealed that “satellite and cable companies are loosening their chastity belts and getting more aggressive about promoting adult content.”

Looks like we can blame our failing morals and values on our failing economy or, as AdAge.com puts it, “The economy may be in shambles, but satellite and cable companies are making whoopee.” No longer does fear outweigh money – the bills are piling up and cable companies are going in the direction of the many sad and desperate before them.

Yes, porn is about to save cable TV.

At one point Direct TV had a long-standing policy of refusing to market adult content “for obvious reasons.” That policy is out and threesomes are in. Revenue is now the motivating factor for cable operators to hop on board the porn train (Editor’s Note: weird. mental. image.), roll up their sleeves and get a little dirty, in terms of advertising of course.

Adult pay-per-views can be profitable for both cable and satellite companies, so much that “even as they raise prices on regular channels, the price of their adult fare is about to get much cheaper and more attractive.” It makes sense if you think about it in terms of bar logic (you know… the cheaper the drink, the more attractive everyone looks). The more advertising they do of PPV specials, the more the ‘curious” audience member will purchase. And in a time where people are losing jobs, homes and life savings, people are looking for anything to help them cheer up.

Why not porn?

Guess you are going to have to get over that whole porn aversion. Looks like this may be just the cure for our ailing economy.

[Image courtesy of www.jonco48.com]

So who’s a fan of Adult Swim? I know I am.

Ever wonder who the rapper with the high pitched voice is on ATHF? You know MC Peepants/MC Vald. That would be real Nerdcore rapper, MC Chris.

I know what you’re thinking right now: what the hell is “Nerdcore”? Well think Weird Al Yankovic’s “White and Nerdy,” but, you know, BETTER.

Nerdcore is a genre of hip hop, but instead of rapping about ho’s, bling, and money, they rap about games, computers, and other fun geek stuff. I mean they talk about boobies too, but it’s just different.

Don’t let the content of the songs throw you off, though; the beats are just as good as the more mainstream stuff on the radio, which means you will find yourself jamming/dancing to songs about compuers in no time. Want a little help? Check out these performers and their more popular jams (well, popular amongst geeks like me).

MC Chris

He’s perhaps the most well known of all Nerdcore rappers due to his work with voice acting, which, you know, makes his voice quite distinctive. He’s easy to listen to and, believe it or not, fun. Very catchy and poppy. For something new to play on that long road-trip home, check out “Fett’s Vette.”

MC Frontalot

He has a slightly different sound to him with a bit mor ]e rhythm based and very smart lyrics. His music is actually something you could listen to all the time. My favorite pick? Check out “Secrets from the Future.”

MC Router

My friend is totally geeked because he got to talk to her online. (It’s the little things.) In any case she’s a hardcore geek girl with techy beats that are fun to dance to. If you are in the mood for some chick music besides Britney and Rhianna, check out “Emmulation Station.”

Image courtesy of boingboing.net

I would have never dated me three or four years ago. Sure, I was lovely in most ways and I was a catch in most ways, but there was one little thing about dating that I just didn’t get: being friends after the breakup.

When my heart was broken before, I knew exactly how to manipulate the story to victimize myself and follow up with passionate vengeance. I never even gave a guy a fair chance to break up with me without it being ugly. And looking back on that, it makes me thoroughly sad.

These days, I understand relationships as more than ultimatums or pending doom and broken heartedness. Now I get it.

If I was that close to a guy before, close enough to let him be the only boy I would even kiss, he must have had something to contribute to the world and my life more than sex, right? Right. So why would I cut all of those positive things out of my life just because we made a decision to end the intimacy?

Upon realizing just how much I was giving up when I cut off all ties with my exes, I began changing my ways. I am now friends with all of my exes; yes, every last one. I have rebuilt the bridges I burned and, in fact, just hopped on a plane last month to go visit my most recent ex. As a FRIEND. And we had a great time!

When you are of the mentality that you can’t be friends with a dude after you break up, you are already hindering your relationship. You are already screwing up its natural course of growth and making aspects of the relationship ugly that don’t need to be. Damning your post-breakup relationship to Hell is not only immature, but it’s sad; if you liked a guy enough to date him, you should like him enough to be there for him when you’re done dating one another.

“But how the hell am I supposed to stay friends with him?!” you ask.

Good question. Here are some of the things that worked for me.

1. Don’t talk for a 1-3 months after the intimate relationship ends. You’ll need this time to readjust and get your own personal life back.

2. Don’t feel guilty for seeing him as something different than your typical friend.

3. Be supportive of him and encourage his healthy relationships with new women.

4. Be a shoulder for him to lean on.

5. Don’t be cutting. Save the resentment for your diary; it’s over now.

6. Don’t try to get back together. You can’t be friends if you’re trying to be more than friends.

7. Try to avoid the ‘remember when’ conversations. They bring on emotions.

8. Avoid comparisons. Don’t compare your new guys to him, and don’t let him compare the new girls to you.

9. Distance yourself from his closest friends and family. That means no calling his sister for advice or taking his new GF out for ice cream every night.

10. Recognize what you’re doing. You’re salvaging a friendship; give it time.

Yes, that list is long. And yes it is full of very difficult tasks, but let me tell you – I’m a f*cked up emotional creature, so if I can swing this I know you can. You’re probably never going to be super psyched about your ex dating a new girl, nor will you ever lose ALL of the feelings you once had for him, but being friends with him is possible. And important. And part of growing up.

(Photo courtesy of Photobucket.com)