Thanks, Mr. Jobs

I am 20 something and my life has no direction

The knowledge of this didn't hit me like a freight train, but rather it hit me like the way termites eat out a log--slowly, deliberately, almost imperceptibly. A few months ago, I read an article in the New York Times about an alleged new phase to development unique to Western 20 somethings aptly named emerging adulthood. Essentially, a psychologist from Clark University determined that many 20 somethings had not passed through the rites of passage (buying a house, getting married, having children) that their predecessors a generation ago had gone through by their age.

I feel as if I am in a stunted adolescence. And it must be something that I exude because I get more than my fair share of different versions of "Well, make sure to ask your parents!" I really don't feel (and hopefully don't look!) that different from how I did 10 years ago, or even 15. I still live in the room off the corner of the stairs. I still play around with (read: annoy) my sisters the same way I used to when we were kids. I still can't fully support myself. Most importantly, seven years of higher education later, I still haven't the slightest inkling of what I want to do other than travel. Yes, life is not that much different--different year, same deeds.

Osama bin Laden is dead.

Honestly, I had quite forgotten about the man.