(This is) 23. /ˈtwɛn.ti ˈθɹi/ n. The age of indecision. 1 year out of college, 2 years legally drinking, 3 years left on your parents’ health insurance, 4—60 years till you know what you should be doing with your life.
Great news, everyone! A piece I wrote aired on the radio yesterday! “This is 23” was on KQED, Northern California’s NPR station, on a program called Perspectives. It was my third time recording a piece for them (this piece and a version of this piece also aired), and going into the studio always feels like a very grown-up, “I’ve made it” experience. An usher brings me a glass of water and I get to say things like “testing, testing.”
This piece was inspired by the rush of emotions I feel being back home after 9 months teaching in Spain. The plan is to return to Spain in August to teach for another year, this time to Barcelona and children ages 0–3 (!?!?!). But being back home has made me seriously question if I want to leave again. So if you’d like, read (or listen) to the piece, and then help me decide my future plans by voting in the poll below.
This is 23
(You can listen to the recording here, but then hurry back and cast your vote!)
A year ago, as a college senior, I entered my school’s Career Services department so a computer program could generate a life path for me. I told it I was interested in languages, writing, and an absence of cubicles. It yielded 17 results, all of which disappeared once I raised my salary requirements above minimum wage, and said I wouldn’t mind dental coverage.
Eager to dodge the suggested jobs, I chose another route entirely. I moved to Spain to teach English.
It was a good year; my students learned some important phrasal verbs, and the difference between ‘bitch’ and ‘beach.’ I, in turn, appreciated fine wines and a slower pace of life, and gleaned some crude Spanish slang not published in textbooks.
But now I’m back in Marin, trying to figure out my next step without Career Services’ astute software.
There are only two options, but the boxes to check seem more nuanced this time.
Do I move to San Francisco, close to family and friends whom I never realized I needed so much until a year spent apart? I could pursue my dream of writing, though in light of the tech culture, I’d inevitably edit copy for some start-up marketing tablets to dogs. The pay would afford me a partitioned pantry in the Tenderloin, but still, I’d be here. Home.
Or do I return to Spain for another year, where the novelty has worn off but at least my work schedule allows for siestas. I don’t relish the idea of teaching English to drooling toddlers, but as a travel and language lover, it adds up on paper. Starting from scratch overseas yet again is as hard to stomach as Spanish blood sausage, but then again, who turns down Barcelona?
The Career Services software needs an updated algorithm. I’m a writer, not a Google engineer, but I imagine it’d be an average of the following: glorified Instagrams of cured ham minus Facebook rants about Spanish bureaucracy; clicks per minute on the SF Craigslist housing page; unique monthly visits to my blog, to see if writing is a real option; and the cash I’d dish out on transatlantic flights versus Uber rides across the city.
Leave out salary requirements so as not to skew the data, and the results would tell me the only thing I really need to know at twenty-three:
Should I be here, or there?
Readers, you tell me!!
(Some background before casting your vote):
It’s easy to think, why wouldn’t you go back to Spain?!? But maybe, just maybe, 2 years is enough. I’ve done the study abroad and the work abroad, so maybe I should do the whole work-in-the-U.S. thing?
I can honestly say that this past month in California has been the happiest I’ve felt in at least a year (er, coincidentally, the time I’ve been in Spain). The combination of family, friends, clear blue skies, friendly Americans, San Francisco hills and coffee shops, and many many hours devoted to writing has made me a happy camper, and put into question why I would drop everything to move overseas again. Although I enjoyed my time in Bilbao, it was certainly a mixed bag. (I wrote this humorous post when I was SO over things there, though the “mixed bag” comes from more than just rain.) I don’t necessarily feel pressure to “start a career,” but I do think I should start working in something I love—writing/communications/translation related—rather than corralling kids and speaking English at a rate of one word per minute. Plus, starting from scratch in Barcelona—no apartment, no friends, new colleagues, unfamiliar surroundings—seems utterly exhausting.
So that’s all an argument for staying put.
The argument for leaving again is just a four-syllable word: BAR-CE-LO-NA.
(Also a 20-hour work week, ability to travel, and lots of juicy material to write about while I’m abroad.)
What would you do, in my shoes? And feel free to elaborate in the comments below! Thanks so much for any advice.
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Jenny
Jenny Marshall studied Language, Culture, and Society at the University of California Santa Barbara, and now teaches English in Spain. Here she writes about the intersection of language and culture, and lives a life translated by travel.
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