quarter life catharsis

quar

ter

life

catha

rsis

photos, words, layouts, blame

Pamela Hu

“finishing” this zine is extra special for me, because it has contorted and stalled for years (e.g. the oldest thing i wrote in here dates back to sophomore year of college.)

up until last week, i had pretty much given up on it altogether.

i can’t fully articulate what changed but i can give you this: living builds up emotion, creating art releases; and creating art is the most cathartic thing i know how to do.

so, this is an emotional backlog of what i’ve endured, repressed, glorified, overcame, and continue to indulge (but not necessarily in that order...)

this is a distilled and poised look into an early 20something-year-old’s head- and heart- space. and while the emotions expressed are not revolutionary or catastrophic, they are mine.

thanks for being here with me,

P.H.

“

There are these two young fish...and they happen to meet an older fish...who nods at them and says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” ...the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?”

If you’re worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish...please don’t be.... The point of the fish story is merely that the most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are hardest to see and talk about.

-

This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship.

Because here’s something else that’s weird but true: in the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping.

Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.

-

The plain fact is that you graduating seniors do not yet have any clue what “day in day out” really means. There happen to be whole, large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine and petty frustration.

The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.

That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.

On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.

It is about the real value of a real education, which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:

“This is water.”

“This is water.”

It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive in the adult world day in and day out. Which means yet another grand cliché turns out to be true: your education really IS the job of a lifetime. And it commences: now.

I wish you way more than luck.

”

I remember it like

white headlights on

black road,

static on radio.

There was joke

after joke after

joke, like mile markers

in our conversation.

Your driving had us

under those tunnels

of orange light

and shadow.

Even now,

in my mind,

I play our laughing

in consecutive

still frames.

I play our laughing

to fill the silence

of me driving

further and further

away...

01

THE END OF ONE THING

“Knowing

You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Any place is better

Starting from zero, got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself, I got nothing to prove

You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'c ross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living

See, my old man's got a problem

He lives with the bottle, that's the way it is

He says his body's too old for working

His body's too young to look like his

My mama went off and left him

She wanted more from life than he could give

I said, somebody's got to take care of him

So I quit school and that's what I did

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so we can fly away?

We gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way

So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

I got a job that pays all our bills

You stay out drinking late at the bar

See more of your friends than you do of your kids

I'd always hoped for better

Thought maybe together you and me would find it

I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere

So take your fast car and keep on driving

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.”

02

THE START OF ANOTHER

A trunk full, closed, and headed towards the promises of our higher education.

Shotgunned next to you, we’re a little unfamiliar but gossip and music help.

We reach that part of the bridge, where the skyline first shows itself, and undoubtedly I’m small again.

We stop in front of a blue house. It looks fine, unremarkable: 3 units, a large tree, a staircase.

Walking to the top floor, every step is an echo. The paint fumes linger. I crack open a window, then a suitcase, then a box, so on and so forth until the space is sparse and full.

I find a place for most of my things, a little awkward, a little temporary. They don’t look like they belong yet, but eventually they will.

Eventually I will too.

There’s noise

to the point of ambient.

I can’t understand

anything anyone

is saying—even if I tried.

I see others lost

in conversation, lost

in each other. Me,

just lost.

It’s now when I’m most

reminded of my self,

my posture, my breathing,

how I’m scanning the room,

how I’m waiting,

how aware I am of everyone

and how unaware

everyone is of me.

03 LOST

Some silences are too heavy for

strangers to hold and

that's what the Billboard Top 100 is for.

The pine musk, I'm a lot less sure.

I can't keep my eyes off of

the cars passing by

the buildings passing by

us. Passing and passing until

pausing.

"For Stephen?"

All I can is scoot over.

Another couple of stories

that I'm too tired to read,

I'm sorry. The streets twist

on regardless.

"Here's good."

In the middle of a slow slamming door,

I notice strong arches and

a window. Looks wide enough to frame

a family inside. Looks warm.

They've made it home but I'm still

so far from it.

for us it started with

wine and a shot

in the dark

sparks everywhere

we haven’t stopped laughing yet

because our aim was accidental perfection

04 AND FOUND

“””the overarching theme of this flick for me is the importance of belief: the belief of what could’ve been, believing what could be, because for those of us who are really sensitive souls - the absence of optimism is a death sentence.

another huge theme is the importance of external belief on one’s internal belief...

...even having 1 person who believes in you, and in this case not only believes in you but believes you, can inspire such an important shift of belief in self.

you know, it’s the audacity of hope, and sometimes someone has to be audacious enough to believe in you first. it might not be a parent, for many of us it isn’t. friends matter. friendship isn’t frivolous. and friendships can be as or more important than romantic relationships. self esteem doesn’t exist in a vacuum. someone has to gas you up first and get you to a point where you can take that belief that they have in you and then find that belief in yourself.”””

05 PURE JOY

think panoramic oceans,

canopies,

climbing sandstone,

for a second we get lost from within...

go back to

poker table garages,

sunset homes,

and, for several measures,

cathederals chime in...

street parking is a headache

but this place is a dreamland,

I’m still pinching myself

getting to be here...

“

is there a way to fully appreciate the stuff as it’s happening? whenever i try to live in the moment, it feels like i’m forcing it, like i’m trying to make a memory because i know i’m going to remember these days fondly

the best memories aren’t forced, they just happen.. but if they just happen without me even realizing it, how do i appreciate it before it’s over?

”

We say happiness can’t be bought

but on Friday nights it’s loaned and it’s ours.

Expensive drinks, cheap thrills;

seeking clean clean chaos.

The lights take turns bouncing off walls.Then us.

The floors in total vibration.

Amplified, unforgiving.

On my way to the restroom,

hard focus,

every

step

is

certain.

People come lagging and go glitched.

We meet for a minute and talk like we didn't just meet. If I had known

your name, I wouldn't remember it now.

These days fold into nights fold into each other.

I’m uncomfortable, sticky, screaming desperate to be heard.

I don’t need hindsight, I already know I’m going to miss this.

06 LESS PURE JOY

Waking up, hurried to be with people that are no different.

It’s a dull tunnel.

Tucked between strangers, I try and lean into the new momentum. Years of practice and still a jolt, my feet stutter from starting up again. I had just gotten use to how things were and now we’re somewhere else, new faces to learn, new postures to study.

The screeching of rails and internal diaologues. It’s a contradiction being here: I feel I’m moving too fast and not at all.

07 REALITY CHECK

the valley shows signs of rust

kids playing with shiny toys

trespassing tax brackets

and we race:

IQ, glory,

insecurities,

6 figures,

but mostly taxes.

It’s high rush

inescaping:

a treat, a poison,

dead ends nonetheless.

Insufficiency,

caffiene,

faster,

dopamine,

better, more,

incomplete.

Broken glass,

broken dreams.

The sun sinks, the world

turns,

and rinse,

and repeat,

and rinse,

and repeat...

This is the race and we are the rats "The best minds of my generation are thinking about how to make people click ads.”

The ideas were supposed to be better.

The small talk, the art... If not someone, I could use something to remind me that, I can think for myself. I can think for myself. I can think for myself. Again and again, until the end of the block. Tell me I can. These houses stand so proud in their singularity. Do they have more courage than the people living inside them? I remember leaving the suburbs, I don't remember becoming it.

08

RIGHT

I sip your glass

half full,

it’s pure,

and I’m up there with you.

Do you ever look out at this and think, “I made it”?

The hills have yellowed with drought and died with fire. But I’ve noticed,

the grass is always greener where you’re sitting.

I’m spending all this time working

towards balance, peace of mind,

optimissm, emotional intelligence,

self confidence, self love... but, like,

I can't put that on my LinkedIn bio.

“””The planet does not need more ‘successful people.’ The planet desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of all kinds. It needs people to live well in their places. It needs people with moral courage willing to join the struggle to make the world habitable and humane and these qualities have little to do with success as our culture is the set.”””

I met someone who did real estate in New York, she had a penthouse. I went up to see it and... it made me feel really sad... because it was like she bought her way into my dream. She had these architecture books and expensive whiskey set... And I had always prided myself on my character, it’s inseparable from me, I made it... And somehow she just bought her way into it. I couldn’t help but think she’s what I’d be like only if I had the money. So then I had to ask, what makes me, me? If you took everything I had away, what would be left? And if you took everything away, would I be happy with what’s left? -K

Art fueled by inconvenient turmoil,

easy. What’s difficult and most true:

Our full body laughs, the heaving and aching. From one breath to the next, I have an outer body pause:

a few twenthsomething year olds on a used Craigslist couch. It's stories getting interrupted by stories because we're stupid and invincible and eager to share something, everything...

We’re more entertaining than what’s on the TV at our front. I mean art can dare to imitate us, and it’ll almost but never get it right.

09 AND REAL

“[It’s a] lasting reminder...the dignity of leading a simple but kind existence.”

city of gold

your heart of gold

i can’t untangle the two

we carved our names into

sand that won’t hold

but when we look again

there will be young ghosts

reminding us to smile

baker, dolores, bernal,

precious and bitter sweetened

whatever,

gold tarnishes and so will these useless after thoughts

but before they do,

the sand’s still warm,

let’s sit in this

a little longer...

“But that’s romantic.

Sometimes it’s realer than that.”