in which i pretend not to be freaked out that 30 is looming

I’ve been thinking about 30. Not in the “Oh my God, I’m almost 30, I need botox” sort of way, but still, it’s a little on my mind. I just turned 28, which is really quite young. I don’t really make huge deals about age. Who cares really? But I do think that milestones like 25, 30, and 50 are important ones that should be noted. When I turned 20, I freaked. I remember staying up all night one night in college so obsessed with being 20 that I wrote a poem about it. It was basically about how I felt that I had accomplished nothing in the 1st 2 decades and that I was giving myself 10 years to get a husband, 2.5 children and a picket fence. Well, here we are 8 years later and it ain’t happenin’. My friends tell me to “never say never.” I think I’m saying it, “Never.” I’m not sure the marriage and mom thing are in the cards for me. It’s not that I want them to be. It’s not that I don’t want them to be. I really just want life to unfold as it should. I’ve definitely learned in the 8 years since I wrote the 20 year-old poem that if anything, life should not be about stress and worry that things aren’t happening or haven’t happened yet. Sure, sometimes I stop and realize that I don’t have an endless amount of possibilities before me simply because I’m getting older, but that doesn’t mean that life can’t take new directions. I think when I’m 30, if there be no man in my life then here is what is happening:

1- I’m moving to New York City. Why? Because I can.
2- I’m registering for gifts. Why? Because I’ve given a shitload of wedding presents and it’s my turn.
3- Who the hell knows and who cares. Why? Because life should not be a list of things to do. It should just be.

30, bring it!

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