angle of adulthood

how to grow up

When I first came to San Francisco a little over five years ago, I walked up the stairs in the apartment I was staying in. I put my suitcase down at the top of the stairs, and when I looked up after taking my shoes off, it had rolled to the other side of the apartment. The floors were all slanted. I had come to sleep on my brother’s floor for a week and then take over one of the other rooms in the apartment. So, for a few weeks, there were seven men living in an apartment with six bedrooms and slanted floors. We called the apartment “Tilt House.”

I didn’t really know any of the other roommates in Tilt House, and they were all older than me, with age gaps ranging from three years to nearly a decade. But none of that seemed to matter, as they welcomed me into the apartment, invited me to hang out with them, freely gave advice (both good and bad), and made the transition from college to adulthood seem more straightforward.

I had spent so much of my life looking up to my older brother, copying everything I possibly could from him. But after a few years of living across the country from him, I had less of a sense what I was supposed to be doing. As I reunited with him, I got to see how he lived his life, how full it was with his friends. Through the stories of these friends he spent all his time with, I learned who he was when he was my age. And by spending time with them, I learned the way that I wanted to live — like I suddenly had several more older brothers to learn from.

It was intimidating at first, joining this group of dudes who loved to spew hot takes about anything and everything and start silly arguments for the sake of it. I would get emotional during some of these exchanges before I started to realize that it was a game of sorts but one that everyone took seriously. But that was the crux of what made them special. What I learned from the Tilt boys more than anything else is the importance of taking things seriously.

They take leisure seriously, take their work seriously, and take having a good time and the quality of everyday life seriously. Jonathan is more serious about fantasy football than I am about anything in my life, dedicating hours to podcasts on the subject. Neil brings an intensity to his music career that inspires my own creative process. Rob holds such an incredible amount of curiosity about the world that he has dedicated months of his life taking classes for becoming a clown and a mime after years of a successful career. Kevin has always held such a steadfast focus on the family life he desires that every one of his actions (including his golf obsession) connects back to it. Deepan runs a startup that’s thriving, while also being the person I know most dedicated to always having really good time in any situation — a intense commitment to getting the most out of a hangout.

These are only partial parts of the picture. Just as impressive is the seriousness of their love for their friends and families — how they consistently show up for the people in their lives, regardless of what is required of them. When people bring seriousness and intensity to what’s important to them, it’s hard not to relish the positive energy, not to be inspired to take yourself more seriously, and not to want to live a life like that. And when you’re a 22-year-old being taken seriously at a time when you feel like the least serious person on the planet, you find a confidence in yourself that you’ve never had before — that you belong, that you’re worth the time of a group of truly special people.

During Covid, these guys were my pod. Nine months after moving to San Francisco, I was completely separated from the world, as we all were. Yet, I hold such warm memories of the months we spent together. We would find reasons for our hobbies to become events to celebrate. Someone’s pasta-making hobby was turned into a pasta party, where we each manned a station for making dough, cutting it, boiling it and plating it. Another night dedicated to pizza was similar. We’d eat and play games and scream and have beautiful times like everything was still normal. During that time, I felt less alone with them than I did before the pandemic, even before I’d ever met them.

I came to San Francisco with very few friends at all, and these guys became like my family. I didn’t need to always be talking to them, and I didn’t always need to be hanging out with them. But whenever I wanted to celebrate my birthday or didn’t know what else to do with my time, I knew that they would be there to hang out and give me some of the best times of my life — playing video games or poker or darts or singing our hearts out to Coldplay in a karaoke room. I’ve always been lucky to have the best big brother in the world, but it was even better to feel like I had five big brothers, always looking out for me.

We moved out of Tilt House five years ago, but so many of us have lived in other apartments together since. A few have moved out, but there’s something so beautiful about how any of them can come into our apartment at any time and they know it almost as well as they know their own. We reminisce about what it was like when we were always within a few dozen feet of one another, how different the apartment used to look.

The people I’m closest to are those I’ve gotten to live with. When you have to spend so much time together, you learn to appreciate other people despite their annoying habits, like how I leave the printer in the common area for too long or how I forget to do the dishes sometimes. Because in between the annoyingness, there are all of the conversations about life and football and money and love. There are the nights out on the town or playing blackjack at the casino or playing way too many games of Super Smash. There’s coming home from a long day and being able to relax in the company of your friends.

What is special is how friendships exist in the despite. Despite the undone chores, we are close. Despite the age gaps, we are close. Despite life changes, we will be close. Despite thousands of miles between us. And as I look for an apartment in New York, part of me hopes that the floors will be slightly slanted.

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We must do what we can to push back against the genocide in Palestine and the invasion of Lebanon. Consider donating to Care for Gaza (grassroots organizations delivering food to Palestinians), directly to families or by buying e-SIMs to keep folks connected to their families. Lebanon is suffering too— consider donating to the Lebanese Food Bank, The Zahra Trust, or Beit El Baraka to help provide relief and resources.

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💧 Drops of the Week 💧

• ALBUM - This is the One by Utada - greatest J-pop artist of all time

• POEM - “Tired” by Langston Hughes - I am so tired of waiting, Aren't you