I am amazed that I am turning 30.
I try to stretch my mind back over the last twenty-six years of active memory, and you know, I don’t think I had any real idea that this was where I was going to be.
blackgypsy said in her blog, that she realised for the the first time that no one had ever brought her flowers. I’ve never gotten flowers either. Isn’t it kind of sad that I’ve reached thirty and not ever had that kind of of typical experience. I also kind of envy American’s for proms, because I would have liked to have one as well.
I want to be careful before I say that my life has been bad. It hasn’t. I’ve been very lucky. It’s very easy though, to let your gratefulness for survival make you not wish to truly ask to live the life you want.
This has been part of the thing with me.
This penchant for retrospection isn’t new. I’m always going back and reading old diaries, rereading books I’ve read before…. always seeing things differently.
When I was younger, I would hope and wish and want things, only to be bitterly disappointed. So for a long time, I just stopped really hoping, or rather, I’d hope but be convinced no matter what I wanted, I’d never get it, because in the past I never did. What I got was almost always some simulation, or something close but not quite, or a stone when I expected bread.
The last couple of years have been different though. I’ve desired and wanted for myself again; not only that… as much as I have complained about my job and what not, I prayed for stability and regular employment for a long enough period that I could decide what I wanted, and that’s what I got.
I have been blessed, and have been saying that all along.
So why is it that age thirty is freaking me out so much? I know, everybody supposedly goes through this, but I’m just having trouble conceptualising myself in five years. I have been quite apathetic to birthdays in recent years, because they’ve all been depressing or sad. This year, I don’t know how to feel, but weird is definitely one of the predominant motifs of this birthday.
I’ve always been like that. I’ve always had trouble picturing my future. There would be these concepts I would play with, and know deep within I was going to have one day, but where I would be, what I would be doing, these are always things I have trouble picturing beyond, let’s say tomorrow or next week,
I try not to make too many plans… because you know what they say about plans.
It’s just, with just about a week to go, I am a little flabbergasted.
WHAT THE FUCK!! I’m going to be 30!!!
There’s so much I haven’t done and experienced, so much I want to do still… how could I have gotten up here so fast?