"Quarter-life crisis" was, at first, just a John Mayer lyric (everyone stay calm. High school was a long, murky experiment in close reading melancholy teenage pop/rock, okay?). Ahem. Moving on.
College - moment of silence, please - flickered out of my twenties and, as it turns out, the script for my series finale was nowhere to be found in its rising smoke trail. The journey of self-discovery was clumsy, the answers to life's "big questions" were mostly incomplete, and my hair, on average, flopped awkwardly over my scalp. The WB and its representations of young adulthood had misguided me, specifically in regard to awesome hair.
So I moved to Japan. I started a blog, taught English, and wore a suit to work. And yet, none of these formulas yielded the sense of direction I sought.
I developed a consuming addiction to twenty-something analysis material. To name a few: "What is it about 20-somethings?" a New York Times article; Benjamin Kunkel's Indecision (in tangent with Eat Pray Love, Heaven forgive me); and "The Kids are Actually Sort of Alright," featured in New York magazine. People had and still have a lot to say about us, you guys!
So as long as sociologists, talk show hosts, and Jewish mothers debate the validity of our unique phase in human development ("emerging adulthood" they call it), then we as members are responsible for its multifarious voice. A voice that explores the value in it own variety, redefines potential, and generates the occasional animated GIF in the pithy fashion for which our generation is known.
Ladies and Gentlemen and Intersex Individuals: this is Quarter Life Crisis. Let us unite in the fellowship of panic.