The Nobody of the World

Adulting hits me hard. And I see myself as an Ivy League loser.

...‘When I look back on my life nowadays, what strikes me most forcibly is that what seemed at the time most significant and seductive, seems now most futile and absurd. For instance, success in all of its various guises; being known & praised; ostensible pleasures, like acquiring money or seducing women, or traveling, going to and fro in the world and up and Down in it like Satan, explaining and experiencing whatever Vanity Fair has to offer. In retrospect, all these exercises in self-gratification seem pure fantasy, what Pascal called, „licking the earth“. —Malcolm Muggeridge.

Thoughout my college years, I was traveling like on drugs. I was taking two semesters away from Yale (who even stupidly does that??!!) because I thought I finally found the freedom to do what I was born to do--roaming the Earth for romance. I have always been a romantic girl, brimming with hot romance in my wildly imaginative head. But my first 15 years of growing up in Vietnam and 5 years slaving off in Singapore boarding schools, I'd never had a real boyfriend. (For God's sake I didn't even lose my virginity then.) It was all just hard crushes and fantasies. I promise one day I would change all that. And I got myself a real boyfriend at my first ever frat party of my college career. That lasted for the entire freshman year.

Anyway, when I found the freedom to roam the Earth, Europe became my oyster, my backdrop. For an uncultured girl whose primal concerns growing up were where the next meal's gonna come from, or where the pocket money for the next notebooks and pens and school uniform were gonna come from, Europe was a stunning dream come true. What could be more glorious than waking up in the hands of a handsome lover with the glorious view of Eifel Tower, or enveloped in the magical hygge of a cozy Danish stranger's bed, or stealing kisses and cuddling from a truly native Venetian fireman...Oh man, did I have my fun... And when I ran out of Yale fund, I made Yale loans to fund my travels (again, endless stupidity of my reckless self!!)...And I was traveling so much in Europe it became the norm just to cancel air tickets of a few hundreds bucks because new plans were coming up, or drinking myself through the night in order to make it to the airport totally wasted at 4am for a 6am flight to Amsterdam.

“I thought I finally found the freedom do what I was born to do--roaming the Earth for romance...”

Waking up as an adult

Now you could imagine why adulting hits me so damn hard. At 28 years old of my life, and finally graduating from college and with a Master's degree, I practically had nothing in my possession except for a load of romance-on-the-road tales to tell and a piling college debt to bite. The first job was hard because I was no longer a free girl and practically slaving off on a 80-hour week (Strategy Consulting anyone?) just to quickly pay off the debt. That didn't work out so well because I ended up burning out and quit. (Moral lesson: My petite physique of a small Asian girl couldn't live up to the tough endurance of my European colleagues. I absolutely had to call it a day at mid-night and that could not fan out well).

After that it was just darkness and darkness for a year-- a string of depression and crying bouts through the nights. I never could have fathomed that my life would turn out this way when I got the life-changing news of getting in Yale 7 years ago; or at least that's how I was dramatizing it. I could not splash myself with the harsh cold water that I am no longer that spoiled Ivy League brat who could just hop on a plane and go places, or getting terms to the fact that I am now on my own, with not a single cent of savings at age 28, and my parents are still poor, and my sister and brother need me in Vietnam, and that I have been a selfish asshole, an unthinking wreck, and I am Nobody.

6 months later, a new beginning

But throughout my life, no matter how dark it seems at one point, I always get myself up, and start moving somewhere. So I finally got up from my bawling-my-eyes-out series and got myself another corporate job--this time more gentle and less demanding, and worked out a plan to pay off my debts. My pay is in no way poor, but with the salary and the insane tax rate in Germany, I barely scrape out enough after debt payments and rents and food and insurance (talking about adulting) to make extravagant trips like before. And trips are what feed my life and my energy. So for a while I was walking to the new office everyday listless.

But I finally saved up enough for a trip, this time Morocco. And I came back from it feeling more alive than ever for the first time in a while, regaining purposes. I was born to go. And I will keep dreaming, and going. And hence this blog is born...