twenty-something

The other day, on the way to work, my iPod randomly played Jesus Jones' one-hit wonder from 1991, "Right Here Right Now." Yeah, I know -- Jesus Jones. Not only do I have "Right Here Right Now" on my computer, I have it on my iPod. And my iPod thinks that I want to hear it as I walk up North Street to work in sub-zero temperatures.

But ya know what? As I get closer to my new 'Pod, as we move past our honeymoon period, I learn that it's not unlike all my relationships. There are good days (and playlists), and bad days (and songs I should just delete). And sometimes, sometimes, 'Poddy gives me not what I want, but what I need.

Strangely enough, Jesus Jones was just what I needed.

See, last week was a big week. There were milestones -- anniversaries, reunions, visits, big events -- all in the span of about 7 days. Here's the quick rundown:

On Friday, I had my first big, big event with work -- a big-ass concert that was the bane of my existence for about two months -- and a visit from my bestest best friend Danielle, for the show, and for her annual weekend Vermont visit. A few days earlier -- the 21st -- would've marked three years for me and Joe, had we not broken up sometime after year one. The same day was my Mom's 41st birthday, which means that (A) I have a young mother and (B) in nine years, she'll be 50 and I'll be 32. And a few days before that, my boyfriend returned to me after a short geographical break and, coincidentally, then celebrated our one-year anniversary in Montreal. And, last but not least, I passed one more marker last week. I have called Burlington, specifically The University of Vermont, my home for exactly four years now.

Lots going on -- past and present -- in my little life here in Vermont.

And you know what I realized, as I walked through the frozen tundra that is Burlington in January, as my 'Pod's wires stiffened and my beard became frosty, as Jesus Jones provided a soundtrack...?

Right here, right now -- there is no other place I want to be.

At 23, there are big weeks and little weeks. They go by so fast and I pass milestones -- graduations, moves, births and deaths -- along the way. I've settled into a groove, a life, here in Burlington, since graduating, moving, and returning.

I have a job that doesn't pay much. A cheap, tiny, cold apartment that gets lonely sometimes. All of my best friends are far away. But I do feel closer to many of those friends, closer than I've felt in a long time. My apartment's becoming a cozy, comfy home. My job is fun and I'm excelling at it. And my relationship continues to surprise me -- in good ways -- as time goes on.

I have a life. I know that most of this, maybe all of it, isn't forever. But it's now. And for now, it's more than good enough. Funny thing is, I'm not thinking about next semester much. Next year. The next step. I do sometimes, but it's not this constant voice in my head, like it's been almost my entire life. For the first time, I am in the moment.

And I am pretty much happy.

I know there will be changes. I know there will be grad school. I figure there'll be Boston. I know that, sooner or later, there will be conversations that decide the future. But right now there are no plans. No expectations...

Life isn't perfect, and I don't think it's supposed to be. And if being a diehard fan of Sex and the City for the past four years has taught me nothing else, it's this: "That's the key to having it all: Stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like. That's true of the fall lines, and that's true of relationships."

I don't know much about fall lines (c'mon, I'm not that gay), and I may know even less about relationships, but I'm learning. At 23, I'm learning that I may not be married by 25, and I may not have kids by 30. I may not have all my friends physically in my life everyday. I may not be rich. I may not be where I thought I'd be at 23, but I think I finally get it. I wasn't where I thought I'd be at 18, at 19, 20, and so on. And I made myself miserable about it. It was only in hindsight that I realized, in almost every case, what I had in those moments. What I took for granted, what I missed, all because I didn't slow down, stop, savor...

Someday, I'll have it all -- whatever that means. There's plenty of time for the future, for the plans and the conversations, for the now or nevers. But right here, right now...

If you can be happy in a moment -- whether it be during a Gavin DeGraw concert, a cheesy 80s movie with funny cameos and a horrible soundtrack, random sing-alongs with obscure pop mp3s, or a quiet, drunken moment on an uncomfy futon in a overheated loft -- that's a start. And if you can be happy in many (maybe even most) moments, you've got something special. Something to savor. Something to believe in.

Right here, right now...

There is no other place I want to be.