I’m still adjusting to this new jacket I’ve shrugged on. It’s the official being-in-my-30s starter jacket. Something that only three years ago felt far, far away.
Being 30 was new and interesting but since it came right after 29, it was like, okay I could just be 29 another year. 29 part deux. But 31 is a whole different ballgame. We’re not effing around now.
I am positive I will do this same adjustment when I have a 4 in front of my age but right now, that is too scary to comprehend. So many of my friends will enjoy at least three more years of having a 2 in front of their age. And even being 30 was okay, so add another year of enjoyment. Lucky bastards. By which time, I will be full on approaching my mid-thirties, which is almost as scary as the 4 word. I literally have heartburn as I write this. Another adjustment of getting older. Things that occurred fairly infrequently you just get used to and you say to yourself, “Yep, that just happens now.” I guess I just get to enjoy heartburn from time to time. Win.
I have a distinct memory of looking in the mirror when I was young (somewhere between 8 and 13, let’s say) and wondering what I was going to look like when I was grown up. I don’t know if it’s exactly what I look like now, because really, it’s more of the same but maybe with less eyebrow. Also I don’t think I could have predicted how much I would love coffee. Serious, deep abiding affection for that stuff.
I’ve heard from several friends that one’s 30s is “the best time of your life,” although isn’t that what they said about one’s 20s?
But like, I don’t have a house, I don’t have a husband (just a legal issue really….and a matter of a great wedding), I don’t have children, I don’t have a Master’s degree, I don’t drive my dream car (but I will, someday).
What I do have is a kickass new coffee maker – I am talking badass – a sweet dog, a Twitter account, this blog, and creativity coming out of my (large) pores. Oh, and a rather self-depricating sense of humor.
I only have nine more years to enjoy the hell out of this decade so…in the words of Andy Dufresne, I guess I better get on it. Well, what he actually said was get busy livin’, or get busy dyin’. He was trying to escape from a really corrupt prison, which in no way resembles my life at all.
Birthdays never used to do this to me.
Over and out.