The big day is slowly creeping upon me. Seriously. There are approximately 2 days 8 hours left in my twenties. Jesus, saying that just gave me a twinge in my stomach that nearly caused me to burp up my sushi.
So as I look back on my twenties what things can I say? Can I look back and think of all those lessons learned? Do I have a newfound maturity that turning — ack — 30 brings with it? Is my hair greying?
I can’t even remember turning 20. Isn’t that odd? Perhaps not. Because turning 20 is not really a big deal. It is two years after turning 18 which seems like it should be a big deal because you can now join the army and officially ditch your parents. However since I was emancipated when I was 17 – I think that my 18th birthday even failed to be a showstopper. Except for the fact that I could purchase cigarettes legally (which I had been doing illegally since I was 13).
The next big milestone is when you turn 21 because you are of legal age to drink. My 21st birthday was spent at Disneyland with a boyfriend and then at the Spaghetti Factory where I ordered a rum and coke which I didn’t even get carded for. Another bust of a milestone for me.
Then the entire length of my twenties has gone by in a flash. An exciting flash if you look at the events of the past 9 years. There was the life in Newport Beach, the move to San Francisco, the move to London, the move to Barcelona – and all the travelling, friends and fun that I’ve had during those years. Even though I’ve been working non-stop, I’ve also enjoyed a personal freedom that few people ever experience regardless of age.
And the one thing that I can say is that I don’t really feel that different after all this time. My friends in the States have all but “settled down” and insist that I should look into their way of life, but somehow I just don’t swallow it yet. I have had this vision for so long about what life would look like at 25, 30, 35. Thusfar the first two are nowhere near what I had envisioned they would be — but far more than I could have dreamed they would be (if that makes any amount of sense). So I am inclined not to conform just yet.
With only 2 more days left in my twenties I have made the decision to suck it up and look forward to it. There will be no fanfare – just a small dinner with some of my best friends – that hopefully in 10 years I won’t remember so then I can say that turning 30 was as forgetful as being born, turning 10 (who remembers that?!?), turning 18, turning 21, etc…
And my plan for the rest of my thirties remains the same as what worked for my twenties:
Everyone check in with me when I hit 40 and we’ll see how well that decade went… I might just start turning back the clock like Grandma Ginger did. When she was 82 she was still telling me that she was 28. It was nearly believable.
And because Giles will no doubt make some snide comment about me writing anything that sounds the least bit hopeful I will add one for him.