Wouldn’t it be nice?

After day 2 of internship joy yesterday, I gathered with three lovely friends at this little joint:

Spruce Street Espresso. If you’re in the Philly area and appreciate good coffee, I recommend checking them out.

The point of this post is not the great service or lovely latte art here, but the great company I was with. While catching up from a two-year absence, I realized something I’d suspected all along: I’m not alone. My quarter-life crisis is, in fact, counterfeit. How so? Because its not some phenomenon a select few of us experience; its all of us. Or, at least, those of us lucky enough to graduate from college right at the burst of the economic bubble.

I am not alone in my frustration. We all want careers, and we all settle for mediocre place-holders instead, whether it be an unpaid internship, working for you ex-boyfriend’s mother, or clutching to your unemployment check until Grown-Up Land comes knocking.

That said, I have an interview at a West Philly cafe today. If you’re thinking “Wait, you just GOT a job at a cafe!”, you are correct. But I’m playing the field. I’ll see how much they offer, weigh the benefit of working for a potential shit-show two blocks away vs a well-oiled corporate machine downtown, and make my choice. I’m 23 and overly educated. I think I should have my choice of which crappy place-holder to take.

Luckily, I’m not alone. I have beautiful, intelligent friends in the same boat. Most importantly, I have this guy:

Us at the wedding last weekend. We are one fine looking couple, no?

So that helps. I’ve been waiting to live with him for seven years. Its no mistake our song is “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” by The Beach Boys.

And it IS nice.