I've observed it in others over the past few years, but in no way did I expect to have complicated, almost panicked and somewhat sucky feelings about turning over another decade. I always shook my head at people dreading the big 3-0 knowing that
I would never behave in such an undignified manner. Well kids, I'll be the first to admit that as the blessed event drew near I began to freak the heck out. I've always wanted to have a super boss party for my 30th - mostly something involving lots of breakfast cereal. But then it all started to sound like the dumbest idea in the history of the world. And I discovered to my surprise that I was not into having a party this year (like
Goldie, the idea exhausted me). Instead Nick and I took a long weekend in San Diego. We stared out the hotel window at a view of Coronado, relaxed by the pool, played some shuffle board,
took in some movies, and walked all over the downtown area searching out the most delicious foods. It was completely relaxing, and just what I needed to cure my case of the crazy-face.
While I'm not exactly doing a joyful dance about being 30, I'm not having a mental break about it either. Well, not anymore. I'm fine, the train of life chugs right along, and nothing is really different than it was a few weeks ago. The thing is, much like
JD of Scrubs, I too had a list of things I wanted to accomplish by the time I was 30. It's true that I made that list about 4 years and about a billion life-changing events ago making it mostly null and void. But some things stand out from the rest as big fat failures, regardless of my ability to control them. You see, I really expected to be expecting by now. The fact that I'm not is really unexpected.
