When I turn 27…

Perhaps as a consequence of a childhood hinged on pop culture, I’ve always looked at life in terms of the movie in my head. I anticipated graduation as Benjamin Braddock would, listening to a lot of Simon & Garfunkel and vacantly staring at the sun. College was The Rules of Attraction, sometimes National Lampoon’s Animal House. My favorite professor was the old writer guy from Wonder Boys, except with whiskey breath instead of a broken foot. And getting my first professional writing assignment was Almost Famous (actually, Status magazine) and the band that I interviewed, Stillwater (actually, Kjwan).

Age was a different matter. As a state of being that’s a tad more internalized, shockingly early traces of gray hair aside, my field guide to growing up (“aging” seems disingenuous at this point) is culled from song lyrics.

It started when I was a kid and I saw The Sound of Music. Nazi lover Rolf and the hard-headed Leisl Von Trapp would meet after hours in the Von Trapp pavilion and sing about the trials and tribulations of being 16 (“Be canny and careful / Baby you’re on the brink”) and the perks of being 17 (“Older and wiser” and who could tell you what to do). Not the worst advice for a teenager (“Baby, it’s time to think”) but I can imagine a million cherries getting popped to that flawed argument (“You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do”). But all’s well that ends well, I guess. By the end of the movie, Leisl ran away with her family in pursuit of greener pastures, free to sing Edelweiss another day.

Nineteen was a pivotal year for me. While trying to wrestle with familial expectations (i.e. a business management course) and my real passions (e.g. writing, film, design, other things that don’t necessarily pay the bills), I found myself on the brink of minor nervous breakdowns throughout the day. My accounting professor’s surprise quiz? Nervous breakdown. My grade on that surprise quiz? Nervous breakdown. Finding out the cafeteria ran out of the macaroni and cheese I like? Nervous breakdown.

Through all this though, an overplayed song from a British band kept me on the straight and narrow, telling me that 19 wasn’t the year to have my Bell Jar moment. “You’re not 19 forever, pull yourself together,” The Courteneers sang. “I know it seems strange but things they change.” Fine, fine. I guess it was too early to put my head in an oven. I shifted courses instead.

Of course, being 21 and on the brink of finishing college makes everyone overly dramatic. It triggers the Vitamin C Friends Forever moment in all of us, I guess. I don’t know why I was so convinced my batch mates and I were about to change the world. I guess that’s post-grad bravado. I was starting a new job — my dream job at the time, working for The Philippine STAR’s Supreme section — and I never felt more invincible. Hence, an annoying song from an annoying band: “Woah, 21 and invincible, I’m in power for the hour,” sang Something Corporate on, you guessed it, 21 and Invincible. I guess, in hindsight, Vitamin C wasn’t such a bad option?

I dreaded turning 23, though. At that point, I was already well into working as an editor at STAR and Rogue magazine. Work was great but being conditioned to hate 23 since I was 12 probably didn’t help. “Nobody likes you when you’re 23,” said Blink 182, after all, while gyrating in saggy tighty-whities in an airport hangar. So, so sad.

And thank God for Ethan Hawke and Winona Ryder then. In the quarter-life crisis movie a generation or two removed from mine, his character tells her, “The only thing you have to be at age 23 is yourself.” So “myself” I made a point of being, taking this as a cue to down burgers liberally and put on a few pounds. Hey, I’m just being myself!

I’m 25 right now though and I’ve already Googled “songs on being 25,” to no avail. I’ve got to tell you, it’s not the easiest age to be. Some musical guidance and reassurance would come in handy right now. I’m at a bit at a crossroads, career-wise, and I’m continually getting freaked out by older colleagues telling me “25 is when my life changed.” I mean, man, I like my life! Does it have to change? What’s going to happen? Do The Courteneers have anything to say about this? Julie Andrews? Blink 182? Vitamin C?

The next few years seem more manageable. There’s a Ryan Adams song for being 27, after all (“27 years and nothing but failures and promises that I couldn’t keep” — wow, bleak). I mean, Fall Out Boy named a song after being 27 (i.e. 27).

But I guess 25’s a good age to start figuring things out on your own. Now there isn’t really a song to hide behind (or my Googling skills need improvement). I’m taking this as a signal to figure things out on my own, find a way to live life on my own terms. It’s not easy. Like a plagiarism-prone stylist who bases most of his shoots on previous campaigns forced to do things on the spot suddenly, I feel out of depth. I feel out of my league. And in a strange way, it’s pretty thrilling, like cutting off the parachute and free-falling. (Goddammit, Tom Petty.)

It’s tough but I’ll be okay. After all, being 25 isn’t the end of the world. And when I turn 27, hey, there’ll be a song for that.