Letter 55: The Real World, Reimagined
When we grow up in weird times
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Good morning,
Emily and I have shared here before about our joy and fortune in building unique friendships with our former students. Over this last weekend, as heavy feelings of sadness and frustration broke over me, I also thought about my relationship with today’s writer, Mallory, and the hope she brings to my life.
Even though Mallory and I are decades apart in age, her wise intellect, grounded passion and keen awareness of self and world give me hope that this oft-criticized younger generation will find a way to dig us out of this dark time.
Mallory is a tremendous young woman and her writing has inspired me ever since she was 16 years old. She’s also an old soul, with deep wisdom, who has in the past helped me focus on the big picture, in much the same way as a favorite writer and leader of mine, Valarie Kaur. Valarie wrote in 2016:
“What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb?
What if our America is not dead but a country still waiting to be born? What if the story of America is one long labor?
What if all the mothers who came before us, who survived genocide and occupation, slavery and Jim Crow, racism and xenophobia and Islamophobia, political oppression and sexual assault, are standing behind us now, whispering in our ear: You are brave? What if this is our Great Contraction before we birth a new future?
Remember the wisdom of the midwife: “Breathe,” she says. Then: “Push.”
Now it is time to breathe. But soon it will be time to push.”
—Molly
“You are moving out of the realm of fantasy ‘when I grow up’ and adjusting to the reality that you’re there; it’s happening. And it wasn’t what you thought it might be. You are not who you thought you’d be.”
Dolly Alderton
When I realized college was over, I still had a year of it left.
My last final exam in a classroom had taken place seven months prior without me knowing it. Never again would I eat at the dining hall, stroll to office hours, or saunter over to a friend’s house on a college Friday night without a care in the world.
Life at Georgetown, as I knew it, was over before my senior year even began.
Lack of closure frustrates me. I always cried on the last day of elementary school, hating endings but savoring the opportunity to say goodbye at the appropriate time. The pandemic snagging my college experience out from under my feet stripped me of the closure I always relied upon in order to move forward. Losing a year of college obviously pales in comparison to the greater losses suffered at the hands of the pandemic. I wasn’t stripped of a loved one in the way so many were, and yet the grief associated with formative life experience being taken away shapes the way I approach my life as a lost and found twenty-something in the Real World.
People often told me in college that I was lucky to have not yet experienced the Real World, as if it’s all downhill following graduation, as if the Real World will overwhelm each of us in certain, uniform ways. But the world I’ve been warned about does not resemble the one I’m entering right now. The landscape looks both remarkably bleak and yet also inexplicably hopeful. It seems my generation can look forward to a lifetime of unprecedented times.
When I started my senior year, I applied for just about every traditionally corporate job for which I felt qualified. I now work at a three person permanently-distributed startup in a job that I never saw coming but that for years I’ve been preparing for without even knowing it.
My day-to-day reality is nothing like the Real World that I thought was chasing me down the past few years. I don’t have an office, I don’t commute, and I’m living in an assortment of places I’ve always wanted to try out. I can work a full day and still have time for skiing. I don’t have to decide on a new place to live until I’ve learned more about myself and my new life. What I do with my time today truly affects my small company tomorrow; it’s terrifying and exhilarating in the best way.
I’ve found tremendous freedom in realizing my postgrad life doesn’t HAVE to be a certain way, and rather creating space to allow myself to imagine it better. My millennial boss recently told me that what he appreciates most about Gen Z kids like myself and our teammate is that we’re “missing the barnacles the rest of them have accumulated.”
We are less attached to how things should be and more willing to adapt to how things are. I’m hopeful in that sentiment for myself and my generation–that amongst the turmoil defining our younger years, we allow space to reinvent our imagined real worlds.
The grief of Georgetown still shows up at unexpected times, souring my day as I mull over all the experiences I’ll never get back. Yet as I look around and assess the reality of growing up, I realize that this sourness also created room to let go of the fear that it only gets worse from here. This world is not the one I was warned about. It has the potential to be so much better.
Mallory’s Five Favorite Things
I tell all my friends to read Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know About Love. Alderton summarizes my growing up angst perfectly with words that seem both magical and realistic.
Since I don’t have a need for business casual anytime soon, I invested in a lot of athleisure this year. These pants have been a favorite for exercise, travel, and working from home.
Be There in 5 has been my favorite podcast for over a year now. It’s long-form without a co-host and involves a lot of rambling (read: not for everyone!) but Kate has nuanced, hilarious input on all things pop culture and female experience. I met Kate in person this year and she’s absolutely delightful in real life, too.
Rarely do I rave about an app, but Notion pulls my life together. It runs our company and my personal notes in a way that makes organization feel both breezy and wildly satisfying.
As someone who identifies as being terrible at small talk, this conversation deck has been an unusual way to have fun with friends both old and new (and as a bonus, it was written by one of my favorite podcasters!).
With gratitude,
Mallory Price
P.S. The importance of embracing our own timelines, three cheers for the paradox of acceptance, and a more sustainable approach to activism.
Mallory, your ability to articulate such specific yet universal feelings is (and always has been) incredibly inspiring. We’re each just trying to figure it out a little more each day. Love :-)
Ooooo I loved this so much. "It seems like my generation can look forward to a lifetime of unprecedented times." You've said a mouthful there, sister. My generation can stand to take a page from your book, and try to roll with the punches a bit more easily. Loved every word.