Quarter-Life-Crisis in the Windy City
My hair isn’t long enough. My body isn’t skinny enough. My GPA in college was too low, in fact, I probably should have gone to a different college, or perhaps chosen a different major all together, or done different internships, or not have moved to Europe, or Chicago. Maybe I should’ve taken up acting. Maybe I should have gone to grad school in neuroscience. Maybe I would have gotten a better job if I’d gone blond. Maybe, I should have finished learning Spanish before moving onto French. How will I ever buy a condo? With what money? Am I ever going to set a date and get married, and how will I even afford kids? Why couldn’t I just snag a rich man? And, why don’t I have a car? And, how did all my girlfriends make it through high school and college avoiding pregnancies and now are all of a sudden ‘accidentally’ getting pregnant? And, even if I were to accidentally get pregnant, I’d need to move to Canada to get a job to allow me a year off. I cannot believe so-and-so is not staying at home with her daughter.










