In a dim smoky bar packed with underage beer-drinking teenagers, a woman in her late twenties was banging her head along with hormone-raging adolescents. On stage, a band called Southern Beach Terror was playing pumping surf rock tunes.
At first the woman was self-conscious, being by far the oldest person in the crowd, but then she thought, "Screw this! I came to see a band I love, and I am going to enjoy this!"
That woman was me.
And soon after the band finished its set and the adrenaline started to die down, the self-consciousness kicked in again. I felt like everyone was staring at me as if I were a grandma in a prom dress. So I hightailed it through the back door and headed home.
That night, I thought to myself, "Am I getting too old to do the things I am passionate about? But how old is too old?"
When growing up, we were taught that with age comes consequence, thus the term "age appropriate". What we do, what we wear and how we talk is defined by what's deemed proper for our age. When we become adults, we often let go of our passion to make room for what is perceived as "maturity".
"I have accepted reality and grown out of all that *passion' nonsense," said my old friend Dion, who was the bass player in my band in the heyday of flannel shirts and ripped jeans. He distanced himself from his old band buddies, including me, because we had what he called "the Peter Pan Syndrome".
"You refuse to grow up," said the accountant with an SUV and a fake Rolex.
At a recent family get-together, where I was the only one in my generation that didn't have a child, a relative asked me what I did for a living. I never have a definite answer for this question. So I said, "I do what I love," which is music, writing, crafting, traveling for volunteer projects and managing my cafe.
She said in a concerned tone, "Don't you want a serious job?" I have lost count of how many times I have had to explain to people that my job is serious. I take it seriously and I make serious money doing it. Just because I haven't posted photos of myself in Facebook working in a cubicle, or I don't go on office trips wearing T-shirts printed with a company logo, doesn't mean I'm any less responsible, or "mature" than the average Jane.
This clash of perspective over the word "mature" is a never-ending debate. In the eye of corporate yuppies, I am all fun and games. Yet from the point of view of slackers who use the word "freelance" as a synonym for "sleeps all day, gets wasted all night", I am a dull workaholic.
But I find solace in my circle of like-minded friends. In a South Jakarta studio that nurtures some of the best musical talent in the city, everyone wanted to share their thoughts as I raised the "maturity" subject.
Ade, the singer of the acclaimed band Sore, thought his and the mainstream's levels of maturity were incomparable.
"People like us need to feed our souls. We work with our hearts. We can't do something we don't like."
He said that the gap was most visible when he attended wedding receptions.
"The way people frown upon you for not wearing a suit and tie depicts the way society behaves toward people who are different, or *immature' as society describes them."
Aghi, a budding film scorer, music producer and father of a young boy, said his family had doubts at first when he chose a career in music.
"But I can't see myself doing anything other than music," he said. After graduating from law school, Aghi studied sound engineering and ever since, pursued a career in music that has earned him awards and recognition. His family doesn't worry about him anymore.
"Our jobs are no different than those of our parents. They require professionalism and facing challenges just like in any other business," said Bemby, Aghi's partner.
Now both Aghi and Bemby say their friends working in the more conventional fields often envy them, "They say we have the best job in the world. We make a decent living, we're our own boss, and we love our work."
But does this line of work have an expiry date? In other words, just how long do you think you can strut your stuff on stage until your audience yells, "Boo! Get off the stage, Grandpa!"
Which brings me back to my previous question: How old is too old? The answer is: There are different strokes for different folks.
So I have two choices: Revert to the mainstream version of "age appropriateness", or keep doing what I love. Either way, I can't escape getting old, so I might as well grow old doing the things I love the most. It's not immature, it's called being young at heart.
- Kartika Jahja
