Well. This is it, my last day as a young person. By the time tomorrow rolls around, I will have officially entered Old Personhood. I will be 30.
I feel like I should celebrate this day—the last day in my 20’s—by doing something wild and spontaneous. Things that come to mind involve feats that spit in the face of my approaching mortality like skydiving and bungee-jumping. But as it is already 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and I am just now thinking about this, I see the day progressing as any other normal Monday afternoon: an hour of yoga, a few errands, eating dinner, and in bed by 9:00 so that I can get up at 5:30ish. There aren’t even any railroad tracks that I can play chicken on (if I were so inclined, which I am not). So the boarder between youth and Old Personhood with be crossed without preamble and incidence
There is one thing that I am glad of: that I am not entering my 30’s single and without a clear future direction. Instead I am entering my 30’s married and without a clear future direction. Having one of those is acceptable baggage. Having both would make me want to slit my wrists.
(An aside: I have this theory. I have the theory that the Big Man Upstairs never gives you a TOTALLY crappy life. Either your career is going really well, your friendships are awesome, or your dating life is off the charts. There will be one thing that makes life worth living while everything else is going to pot. Currently, my life line is Mr. F. Otherwise, I would be A) unemployed, B) have no close, local friends, C) have no sense of what I should be doing with my life AND be D) single. All while progressing towards old age with no existing 401K. Oof!)
As further proof of my old age, these were my answers to in response to what I wanted for my birthday:
A sewing machine
A good vegetarian cookbook
Yeah. That just screams “Turn Me Out To Pasture” right there.
I find myself at a certain crossroads. One part of me feels incredibly immature—like I am still a college undergraduate fresh from living with her parents. (The other day, I found myself stating my age was 24 and being completely serious. It took me a while to realize that I really wasn’t 24 and hadn’t been for five odd years.) The other part of me which is stiff and creaking screams “if you want any children to look after you in your old age, you better get started because we are DRYING UP.” How I feel about turning 30 really depends on which part is winning the screaming match.
So, what are your thoughts about growing old huh?