We Wasted All Our Free Time Alone

About a month ago, my family's three cars were driving one after another down El Camino Real. I was second in line, behind my dad's fourteen-year-old Land Rover. It's rare that I find myself following him, mostly because his license plate frame which reads Don't follow me -- I'm lost, is, in fact, accurate. In addition to this witty decoration (a birthday gift from his favorite daughter, of course), the remains of a non-functional family bike-rack adorns the back of my dad's jeep. It probably goes without saying, but the bike rack has not always been useless.

Until I was in middle school, my family used to go biking a couple times a week. On weekdays we could be spotted four-in-a-row, appreciating our city's "Cars and bikes share the road" motto. On weekends, we would throw our bikes onto the rack and head to a local trail. Often, our bike rides would end with a visit to Jamba Juice, back when it was called Juice Club.

Though each of us had different worries at the time, (work, taking care of the family, dance practice, or staying out of trouble on the playground, you decide which one belongs to which family member), we all anticipated those bike rides with the same excitement. It was guaranteed weekly fun.

As my brother and I grew up, our individual schedules became less and less compatible. But each of us still found our own means of "guaranteed fun." For me, it was multiple dance teams and classes, choir, and soccer, among other activities. Some seasonal, some year-round, I loved each because it was borne out of a hobby or passion, and it allowed me to come together with other friends and classmates who shared my interests. Luckily, I was able to continue with some of these through college. I'm not even exaggerating a little when I say that the month leading up to my dance team's spring show was my favorite part of each of my years at Penn.

The rest of this post is going to come across as sadder than I would like. It's not a plea for sympathy. It's just, a realization. Nothing else.

A couple months ago, a prospective Intuit employee asked me what I do for fun. I had answered each of her previous questions without batting an eyelid, but this one left me flustered and taken aback. Unsure how to respond. At that point in my life, I wasn't involved in anything I had traditionally "done for fun." Because I was supposed to be in "selling" mode, I put my existential breakdown on hold. About a week ago, I got asked the dreaded question again. I had a biological fight-or-flight response much like the first time around.

I don't know what I do for fun anymore. There it is.

Of course, I still have fun meeting up with friends and spending time with them, but I'm referring to those other "routine fun" type activities. In my life up until now, I've attended classes or been part of a group or team that meets regularly and revolves around something I deem fun. And obviously there is the unparalleled spontaneous fun that you can just take for granted in college -- living in close proximity to friends and constantly bombarded by upcoming (Facebook) events, you're never at a loss for "fun."

But now as the dust of my new job and essentially new life starts to clear, I'm noticing that an aspect of my life that I for so long took for granted, is now completely absent. "Fun" in the post-graduate world requires being constantly proactive and maybe more importantly, planning ahead of time. It is just too easy to get consumed by the daily grind. Or worse, to become lazy.

At lunch a couple days ago, I posed the question to a couple of my coworkers (misery loves company, right?). What do you do for fun? Not to sound sadistic, but I was almost relieved to receive blank stares as their responses. They named things they ideally would do for fun, or used to do for fun, but nothing they do for fun at present.

Before I went to college, I received from a guy in his late twenties what is probably the most useful piece of advice a person could ever receive. You're going to a completely new city and starting a completely new life. Take your time to get settled and try new things, but keep something from your "old life" constant. It will keep you grounded. For me it was football. He couldn't have been more right. This advice is applicable to any transition in life. Ignoring it can be pretty painful.

As a real-world rookie, I've completed step one of the transition from college to real-world (acceptance, as my coworker so succinctly put it). Now I'm on to the second step which is doing something about it; the gears have been set in motion, and I don't doubt that I'll eventually get there. And hey, getting there is half the fun, right?