Well, I’m 30 now. I’ve started a new decade of life. Honestly, I don’t feel any different than I did at 29–still working the same job, doing the same things. Sure, there have been changes, and ones that can be measured in years instead of days–I bought a car and a house, my boyfriend lives with me–but I don’t feel all that much different than when I graduated. I guess that’s a good thing, right? Feeling–well, not young, exactly, but certainly not like I’m going to have a mid-life crisis. I don’t mind, in the main. I don’t really like big changes. They make me nervous. I do wish I was more spontaneous sometimes, though.
I’m happy with my life as it is. I wish I had more time to do the things I want to do, but everybody wants that. I’ve got a place of my own, family and friends that love me, a good job, and now, thanks to my parents, a stockpot so I can cook real chicken and dumplings. (Thanks Mom and Dad!) There isn’t a lot I need. The house needs some work, but nothing urgent: the garden could use a loving hand; the basement wants for a few new outlets; the bathroom needs a fan; and the attic needs new insulation. There is a lot of stuff I want, but don’t need. I keep telling myself that. I’ve got what I need.
Unfortunately I still haven’t finished writing a whole book; that is one thing I regret. I don’t know why I procrastinate so much, but there are just so many things I could also be doing: knitting, crocheting, gardening, playing with the cat, fiddling with the iPod…yeah. Maybe this year.
I don’t really like being 30–not the age, but the connotation of the number. I don’t feel like it fits me. Maybe in a year or two I’ll resign myself to the fourth decade, but I still think of myself as younger. But I don’t know how much younger; certainly not the low 20s, when you’re just out of school and aimless (unless you were a pre-med and then you knew exactly what you were doing for the next seven years of your life), not the mid 20s when quite a few of my friends were getting together with the person they would marry…I guess there is something about staying 29. Although I’d pick 27, just because. I don’t feel old, unless I see a bunch of kids doing something crazy, but I’m reasonably up on tech stuff, so I’m not lost in an electronics store. I can still pull off shopping at trendy stores (if I ever shop there) and I still get carded. But I can remember the days before the Internet and I don’t have a smartphone, so I suppose I’d be regarded as a fuddy by the younger set. But I don’t mind. See, I’m getting older and smarter.
We’ll see what the coming year brings. Maybe I’ll finish a book. Maybe I’ll finish the afghan that’s been sitting around the house for years. Maybe the garden will actually look like a garden instead of a place where there are some flowers and more weeds. I’ll try to make it a good one.
Thanks for sharing it with me.
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