There is one bad habit that I’ve tried to avoid but can’t help but indulge in every now and then. Twitter as a website is designed for quick fixes, often lacking deep thought, or needing to read too much into things. Which is why I found it interesting that I was being pulled in by a random article that was making the rounds late last week. On the surface, it really was a “sky is blue” piece of journalism from an outlet that I don’t think has really developed much of a reputable source. And yet, I was intrigued by the headline of the New York Post’s latest article, “Gen Z paralyzed with fear of turning 30.”
On the surface, it’s laughable and on par with a recent study that Gen-Z prefers fewer sex scenes in their media. With that said, I was taken aback by how much I sided with them once I understood the greater intent. Clickbait culture hides nuance in favor of cheap emotions. It’s a lesson I didn’t learn from these two articles but is the reason I found myself indulging in the New York Post that suggested that the youth see 30 as turning into unattractive hags. Turning on the Emmys recently, Taylor Tomlinson joked that people online said that being 30 made her turn into “mummy dust.” Along with the article's suggestion of committing suicide by 40, it is a hyperbolic way to grab attention but one I am not totally dismissing. Sure, there’s a bit too much “KMS” humor out there that maybe hyperbolizes the mundanity of growing up in a dark world. For all I know, this is a reporter misunderstanding youth speak.
However, I became intrigued by the idea of turning 30 as a death knell. It’s by no means a new concept. Like most TikTok trends, it’s borrowed from the past and repurposed into something new. At midnight when I turned 30, I humorously made my first post in a new decade of life a monologue by Michael York in Logan’s Run (1976) telling a crowd that life doesn’t end at 30. You could live. Of course, that was also a metaphor for people being murdered when they reached “old age,” but taken out of context it was silly but also inspiring. It’s something that we kind of put off because something about a ‘2’ turning into a ‘3’ seems grotesque. Maybe it’s because your 20s is the first full decade of adulthood where you get to venture into the world. You want to believe you will be this vital for the rest of your life. Your 20s are a special time… even if you absolutely screw them up, they exist as one long period of redemption before the rest of your life forces you to live with consequences (or so the story goes).
Reading the essay, I’m left recognizing the paranoia that was settled in by the time I was 25. When I was at the start of my 20s, there was that naivety that everything would work out eventually. I had my friends. We did things together and life existed free of consequence. Oh sure, there were problems. Everyone had problems. But you still had your youth.
I think I’m aware of the perils of aging because I’ve often seen myself as a late bloomer. For whatever reason, things didn’t click right away in adulthood. By 26, I realized that everyone was sprinting past me. Some were getting married, having children, and experiencing a happiness that I have yet to really achieve. Having them come over for the last of the friendly get-togethers revealed that many had legitimate jobs at established companies. Meanwhile, I was 26 and didn’t have a degree. As a writer, I had a blog that didn’t pay out. My influence reach was too small even after a decade of trying. Even the fact that I had been some facet of a writer since I was a child only made my lack of “progress” even easier to pick apart. It’s why my first novel, “Apples & Chainsaws” was written as an indulgent moratorium of my 20s. I needed to say goodbye in my own way. For those who have read it, I think many of the threads speak to some insecurities I still have around showing up to a reunion and being like, “Well, I still write like the last time you saw me… 20 years ago.”
I think as a writer, it’s hard to recognize growth within yourself, and at best you’re moving the punctuation around and cutting down adverbs. It’s a profession that’s in constant change and has often been victim of questionable value to society. Turning 30, I had to realize that my vitality could immediately shift and soon I was the old crank speaking to myself. Nobody would care what I would say. Soon, my life would fall into irrelevance.
For as much as I could find solace in knowing that Toni Morrison’s career didn’t really take off until 39, there’s the reality that I still have years to get there. I can’t deal with the emotional weight of getting to that point.
There was some irony then that my benchmarks were instead looking at figures like Kevin Smith. Even if I wasn’t a filmmaker, he was a writer I admired in high school for how he candidly mixed character development with crass humor and cultural references that showed the ways our society was built on certain paradoxes. He didn’t really establish himself until 30, and I thought that maybe I could get there too. Some things are true. He is more outspoken than I’ll ever be. He came to prominence in a much different landscape. Most of all, he was a figure that is more revered now to me as a starting point than wherever my life has taken me in the 18 years since watching Clerks (1994) on HBO in high school.
But still, if I could get anywhere by 30, then I’ll have some relief that the road ahead is paved with gold.
When Gen-Z claims that they’re afraid of growing old because of media, I can totally understand why. In the New York Post article, there is more focus on messages that the media sends. As much as my teens were defined by exposure to social media like Myspace, I recognize that certain trends have only gotten worse as the internet has become more of a thing. I think on some level I was scared of where things were headed in the early 2010s because I read too much into studies of websites like Instagram giving users psychological disorders. I’m not talking about the basic narcissism gambit. There was the pressure to look “attractive” and have a feigning public deliver you validation. It was a new form of commerce that I’d never been able to really understand. It’s a big reason that I refuse to endorse virtual reality because, as fun as it probably is, I do fear that the further into the computer you go, the less connected you are to the world around you.
Now, I haven’t been perfect. During a bad depression in 2021, I often lost myself on TikTok for hours on end, looking for some sense of connection with people I’d only known for 30 seconds. That makes you think… how could you truly know anyone from a curated algorithm? Sure, that is an exaggeration, but then I realized that since turning 30, I have been more susceptible to parasocial relationships simply because I wanted a connection I’ve felt has been lacking elsewhere. The friends who had found success still have that. As for me, it takes a lot to convince myself that people faded away less because of anything I’ve done to piss them off and more because that life is just that way. I got a Facebook friend request from someone I knew in high school last year, and it was riveting. We don’t talk much, but there’s some relief in knowing that they’re still doing fine.
I feel like that’s a side effect of growing older. I think of the narratives that fiction likes to throw at us where two people meet after decades apart. There is that joy and revelation at the growth somebody has made. They’re still the same embodiment, but hopefully, they’ve evolved into their better self. You pray that the cosmic forces beyond your control have been kind to them. It’s a big reason Past Lives (2023) is one of my favorite films of this decade. It reflects on that nature as a good thing without creating wish fulfillment. Sometimes we cherish the moments that are fleeting more as we get older. I think of the people I want to meet again down the line, if by happenstance, and pray that those moments in their brevity give my life a motivation I long ago forgot about.
It could be that being in my 30s has been a less than ideal circumstance. Part of me wants to just pat Gen-Z on the shoulder and say, “Relax. At least you didn’t live your early 30s through a pandemic.” In some ways, I’d imagine any age during the key “world is your oyster” phase is probably worse because you’re not getting the education you want. Many years of high school failed to hold ceremonies for safety reasons.
Given that I received my associate degree in 2019 after 11 years of fits and starts, there is some haunting relief that my procrastination didn’t crap out enough to make me receive that paper even a semester later. I sympathize with those who see graduation as achieving fulfillment and without it, the honor feels hollow. I can’t speak to the other social gatherings but removing that during a time when someone is developing their core self is criminal. More than me complaining about my 30s, ending your true symbolic youth on a Zoom call with a burnt-out teacher learning how to work share screen must suck even more, creating a disillusionment that can’t compare. As it stands, it’s concerning how many students essentially dropped out because they couldn’t adjust to a new environment whether from a personal or social/financial background.
I don’t want to suggest that the world is awful. It is honestly very difficult because I personally struggle to remember how I felt before 2015 when culture had major shifts. It was clear how divided America was. The influence of social media was reaching its zenith on both ends of the spectrum. By the 2016 presidential election, I was left disappointed in ways that I haven’t fully recovered from. I can imagine for someone who has spent those eight years since only exposed to wars and a pandemic where citizens pit themselves against common courtesy, it’s hard to feel like you’re entering a world that wants joy in it. Unlike me who at least had the naivety of The Obama Administration to “feel good,” what is there in a time where hundreds of thousands died from COVID-19 and the infrastructure hasn’t at all tried to compensate for a changing landscape? Hell, even artificial intelligence is making it easier for the more tactile aspects of humanity to feel inferior. What is even real?
To be honest, this is at best speculation to a generation that I can only view from afar. Efforts to empathize and suggest “things will be okay” are difficult when I don’t fully buy my own product. What has there been for me to enjoy in my 30s? Starting around 2018, I’ve had a string of significant personal deaths (including a friend from a drug overdose in 2021) on top of the pandemic. It took until 2023 to process that having four straight years centered around death impacted my outlook on life. That came with a lot of processing and let me tell you, some days were downright terrible. This is what it means to be in your 30s?
But at the same time, there has been a piece of catharsis that I ultimately feel like sharing in light of the piece. Everything hasn’t gone the way I wanted. Even then, I have released three books, a few dozen short stories, and have a website that I am proud of. My 30s have been about being more honest with myself and allowing a chance to consider tough questions. What do I want out of life? I clearly didn’t get that fairytale ending you do at 30. I’m still single. With that said, after a decade of screwing around, I actually earned a bachelor degree from my dream school. My writing has only gotten richer the more I allow myself to be personal.
This isn’t to say that I still don’t look at youth culture and think that they got it figured out. When I was their age, Patreon wasn’t a thing. I’m thrilled that there’s ways for creators to earn an income while developing their voice. I wish I knew how to be as confident in asking strangers online for money. I feel like it’s a generational thing. We were at the tail end of the '90s mentality that to be sponsored by a brand was to “sell out” as if paying rent was a bad thing. The marketplace is much more fruitful than when I started, and I admire those who know how to establish themselves whether on social media or on video. For those who have that at least, you’re going to do fine in your 30s. So long as you have the passion, I doubt your fate will be cruel. Also, I’ve talked to some cool, compassionate people in the comments section of YouTube. I hope life treats you right.
But there are some truths that I must admit. As easy as it is to say that we will all survive and follow our own muse, I openly admit that it’s difficult to age if you have image issues. More than before, I have been more aware of what I “want” to look like. As someone who has been obese since childhood, the feeling of never being desired in that way sometimes pains me. Those who grow into fatness get the benefit of a youth looking attractive and courting those types of relationships. I get your complaints about your changing body, but they’re hard to appreciate since they usually come with some “life well spent” undertones. Of every detail that stands out in the essay regarding different triggers, the fact that New York Post suggests that Millennials’ main concern was being obese compared to Gen-Z’s turning 30, I will say there’s still some truth to that. It may explain a lot beyond other identity issues I have. However, whereas it’s more the suggestion of skinniness to the point your rib cage shines through your torso, it still paints how hopeless I feel now even as I am getting older and, ironically, dropping a few sizes annually. The fact that The Whale (2022) just won two Oscars for fabricating the life of a tragic fat person as written by a skinny playwright still pisses me off for reasons that I know are very much projecting.
I guess for me, there’s something to shifting the narrative a bit. I’m thrilled less at body positivity and more about the push toward body neutrality. It’s where I try to be most days even if my face doesn’t sit the way I want in pictures. I also try to take in older perspectives, hoping that it unlocks the reality that the narratives focus on youth because discovery is much more fun than the malaise of aging. Until you’re hanging out at the best exotic Marigold hotel, those in-between years aren’t as defined in the media as we like. They can be boring. They can be thrilling. But your life isn’t changing significantly enough on a cultural level to make it feel like you’re a target demographic for anything. If the trend continues, you can’t even be president for another 45 years for some dumb reason. I suppose this lady doth protest too much.
There’s a lot that makes me feel old. For example, I visited my old high school to see how their literary arts department had been doing. They restarted the poetry readings and I wanted to see what they were up to. As an alumnus, I thought of the days when I was there and older students came back to support us. There was a sense of history and community that made those Friday nights thrilling. For what it’s worth, I think they’re doing great work. However, I think it was a point where age showed its ugly side. Not only did somebody read a poem about watching Monsters vs. Aliens (2010) with a babysitter – which came out when I was in college – but I quickly came to realize that almost everyone in that room wasn’t alive when I was a Freshman.
Not only that, but I had another odd revelation shortly following my university graduation. On that same day, I bought a copy of Clerks III (2022) randomly and decided that I would rewatch the trilogy to reflect on what the films meant to me all these years later.
The first film always reminded me of my college years. I was working at a grocery store and dealing with the familiar row of unruly customers. That film grew on me and even in its scrappiness still spoke to a youthful rage. What I had forgotten was that there was a subplot about the characters questioning whether they wanted to attend college. By Clerks III, it would be revealed that they would give up, believing that it was a waste of time. Given that I felt some distance from my colleagues during my university days because of age, it was a detail that really spoke to me.
But what spoke to me more came in Clerks II (2006): the film that came out smack dab in the middle of my Kevin Smith obsession. Whereas others in my creative writing class at the time suggested “He’s losing it,” it was a film that I stuck with over the years for odd details.
Then, upon this Summer 2023 rewatch, I discovered something a bit uncanny. I was the exact same age as Randall: the firebrand antagonist. He couldn’t help but cause trouble no matter where he went. He started fights on message boards and insulted his coworker for having a dull sex life. In one of the most notorious moments of Smith’s career, Randall decides to end his tenure by hosting a tribute to Bachelor Party (1984). It’s a scene that makes me rank the movie very low, but I think speaks to a perverted version of the nostalgia I was dealing with. Randall so desperately wanted to hold onto youth that he’d do something so wild and illogical in hopes that it would keep his friend from going away and starting a family. It was sad, but it was his only way of connecting. He had a stunted maturity that I had outgrown, but I think the monologue that followed showed just how insecure he was to admit he was “old” without any direction in life.
His ultimate goal was to fall back on what made him happy. He worked the job he did when he was in his 20s, passing the day with his friends. There are better ways it could’ve been portrayed, but Smith’s study of being in your Mid-30s without an achievement to your name hit a bit too hard. Even seeing Jason Lee appear in a cameo to say, “Anyone else from our graduating class back there?” stung a little because it’s a truth that is more common than we’d like. As someone who worked in a grocery store, I am aware that there are lifers. Shaming them isn’t the right way to go, even though one might suggest Randall is the personality type to deserve being challenged.
With that said, having THAT be the depiction of your Mid-30s as a Millennial isn’t necessarily the most encouraging prospect. You’re watching the world pass you by and all you’re doing is yelling at customers at the drive-thru. There’s something a tad depressing about Clerks II now that I didn’t see in high school. Maybe it’s because I believed that I would be above Randall in the food chain by then. Instead, we’re still on the same rung.
I’m not going to lie. Midway through being 34, I have been going through that existential crisis again. I am midway to 40, and I am left wondering what I want to do with my life. The only major difference is that I hit the hallmarks that I wanted to by now. The best I could hope for is to find a steady job. Even more importantly, I worry about dying alone without experiencing that love my mind hasn’t welcomed in yet. Even if I know what makes me happy more than I did at 25, I still have a ways to go before I can feel like the back end of my 30s will be more optimistic.
But it’s all stuff for another day. I worry that at some point this essay stopped being about a study on the New York Post article and more about the conflicts of being in my 30s. In some way, I think the greater message is that the world won’t stop without you. There will be some highs and lows. You can’t avoid regrets. However, there’s also the chance to discover what makes you happy and work through the pain to find some greater truth about who you are. It’s scary to grow old because you begin to feel distant from the community that once welcomed you, but I hope they don’t reject you outright. Even hearing Pete Davidson recently talk about turning 30 suggests that we can make this trendy.
I don’t have great advice on how to overcome the feeling that the future is scary. I know it is for me. It’s sometimes paralyzing. However, I have great days too. Even as I feel like social media has made me more self-aware of my shortcomings, I like to think that I’m developing skills to appreciate myself for me. I’m far from a great answer. Life is still hard and will continue to be. However, I want to say that you won’t become mummy dust if you learn to appreciate other things about yourself. You shouldn’t kill yourself just because 40 is on the horizon. Hopefully, you’ll find something even greater. I think that’s what gives me optimism.
As Michael York told me at the start of this journey: “NO! Don't go in there! You don't have to die! No one has to die at 30! You could live! LIVE! Live, and grow old! I've seen it! She's seen it!”
As 2024 continues and I officially reach my Mid-30s, I hope to be a testament to that belief. I have now seen life over 30 for five years. It’s not that bad. Why not fuck around and find out?
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