Sep 10, 2007

Journey to Thirty

I spent most of my morning thus far drinking re-heated, leftover-from-god-knows-when coffee, and perusing blogs. I stumbled upon Nicolemarie and her Journey to Thirty, and got to thinking that my own journey to thirty is off to a brisk start.

In 5 months, I will be twenty-nine. Twenty-nine. It's a good number. I like odd numbers. Much nicer sounding than twenty-eight, but not as nice as twenty-seven. Oh, how I loved being twenty-seven.

I remember a time when thirty seemed so old. People who were thirty, had their shit together. They owned homes, they had children, they had regular jobs, and university degrees. They sat around having drinks and watching their kids play, and went to bed at a decent hour, because they had many adult things to do the next day.

Even when I was in my early twenties, and most of my friends were in their late twenties and early thirties, I still thought that the way to go, was get all the partying and adventure out of my system, because once I got to thirty, it was all going to come to a screeching halt. I don't know why I thought that, I just did. I looked at some of my older friends, and for some reason thought that what they were doing with their lives was wrong, immature even. All they did was go to school, go to work and party all the live-long day. They acted just like I did, and dammit, I was years younger! Didn't they want to grow up?

I had a crisis when I turned twenty-five. I was trying to find myself, after finally getting over the B-Rock break-up, and hated being single for the first time, ever. I had just gotten back from Scotland, and was working two jobs just to get back on my feet, and just get by. Although I looked hotter than ever, I felt like the ugliest piece of shit in the world. My self-esteem was at an all time low. I feared that everyone else was going to all of a sudden get married, have kids, buy homes, and I was going to be left in the dust. I thought that that was what twenty-five year olds were supposed to do. I felt completely and utterly alone in the world, and just wanted to run away from it all, but I was stuck, financially, and couldn't even afford to feed myself. I couldn't believe that I was twenty-five, and didn't have any life-plans on the go. And then I broke my leg, and my dad died, and the last six months of being twenty-five are just a blur of depression and drinking. Oh, how I hated twenty-five. I don't wish twenty-five on my worst enemy.

By the time twenty-seven hit, I was good to go. Somewhere in year twenty-six, I just accepted the fact that I was me, and that maybe having a house and a white-picket fence, kids, and a nasty divorce just wasn't in my future. That was for regular people, and I wasn't really like regular people. I celebrated the fact that I had made it to the rock and roll death age, by loving life, and learning to love myself a bit more, and everything started to change in this whacked out brain of mine.

Twenty-eight hasn't been all bad. Sure, the winter was hell. I'm sure I'll have many more hellish winters and bouts of depression in my lifetime. That's just they way it is, for me. I still think though, deep down, I want the house and the kid and the person to grow old with, just like I did when I was twenty-five, but I've learned that I am lucky, in a way, that I don't have all that to tie me down, just yet. Oh, and I think that I party harder than my friends did when they were my age way back when I was in my early-twenties, and I now understand why they were just like me. Not everyone wants the lives that our parents had. Not all of us fit into that mould.

I don't know what life will be like when I'm thirty. In a way, I'm kind of excited, just to get my twenties over with, but I don't want to rush too much, because I sure as hell am not ready for forty.

I think that I need to really put my foot down on myself, and start saving money, in order to make twenty-nine as memorable as I can. I am itching to travel again, and have decided that having adventure in life is what makes me the happiest. I want to add more stories to my mental library, I want to stay in more hostels, before I feel much too old to stay in a hostel. I want to sleep on a few more dirty train station floors, and meet as many people from around the globe as I can. For the first time in my life, I feel confident, and truly happy and want to fit as much into life as possible, in case some life-altering change hits me, or it does come to a screeching halt.

Anyone want to join me?

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