Quarter-life crisis

There's a new phrase floating about, a new piece of jargon attached to an age and state of mind that some of us are currently staring down: the quarter-life crisis.

No one tells you about this when you get into college. They make it seem like that's the hard thing. Just get in, get by, and there's your life, a path already paved and aching to be trod upon. Really, a diploma isn't a path, it's a shovel - the way is yours to dig out. And that's not just a career path, it's a whole-crate-and-barrel life path. It's everything - where I'm going to live and how I'm going to conduct myself and what I'm going to do with all my bare walls. Van Gogh prints or personal photos or posters from exotic lands? South or north, east coast or west coast, England, America? Forever or temporary? Which way is home?

I am seeking to fill in the blanks of this mad lib. The place, for now, is Washington, DC. The verb is uncertain - struggles or relishes or drifts? There are a few confirmed players and many whom I'm sure I haven't yet met. Some days the blankness is opportunity; some days it's nothingness. This is my chronicle of this time, my quarter-life crisis or adventure or journey or _________.