I have two more days of my 20s left; I’m not fully comprehending this.
I mean, I knew going into this 10 years ago that this would only be for 10 years. I guess it’s that, a decade ago, being 30 meant being a real adult, being boring, being balding. I think the funny thing about it is that a lot of my friends are none of those things. A handful of us are married and a handful of us have kids. If anything, it’s like some of us are twenty-nine going on twenty-ten. I guess being too young to be in Gen X and too old to be a Millennial has turned the early 30s into the 20s in extra innings.
With grey hair.
Oh, with grey hair.
My beard is getting more salt-and-peppery with each passing day. Seriously. I took my Facebook profile picture on the first and I can see how much more of it there is. Meanwhile, above my ears, a month has gone by since my last haircut. Even five years ago, that would have meant my hair would have been ridiculous. Instead, it’s making me notice that I’m nearing the point where my forehead is going to file an annexation suit. I’m intimate friends with some people who haven’t seen my the top of my head in person so that doesn’t really matter. It is a little hilarious that not wearing hats and wearing contacts more or less was experimentation in college.
I applied for five days off from work for my birthday and magically got 10. And I still have six vacation days left. I didn’t know that far in advance so I didn’t plan that much. I want to visit some friends outside of Virginia and that’s just going to have to wait for a three-day weekend in the fall. Frankly, I’m more excited about seeing them than the upcoming week. It’s mostly because I haven’t had a personally-driven-out-of-state road trip since moving back to Virginia about a year ago.
As for these 10 days, I plan on going home for a couple of days in the early next week, maybe going to NOVA during the week and definitely spending the following weekend in RVA. Even if I don’t go to NOVA, I have to go back to Charlottesville at some point during the week. Typically, I would make a round trip but I can’t get around backtracking regardless of what I do. I’m sorry, Mother Earth.
Also, I plan on sleeping a lot during this vacation. Because I’m old.
I should save the whole reflection on my life thing until I actually, you know, turn 30 but I’ve had writer’s block for quite some time and I’m inspired to write at the moment. I’m enjoying this whilst I can.
So, 30. The big three-oh. What did I expect at 30? I assumed I would be married by now. I’m engaged. Close enough. I expected my novel to be done. Theoretically it is. I need to overhaul a small section but the writer’s block seized my fingers after I did the outline and I’m not in my optimal situation to write. So close enough, I guess. I thought I’d have a house by now. My mom has begun the process of transferring her house to me. I don’t know what to do with it when that happens in less than a decade because I’m roughly 140 miles from it and have neither current nor future plans to live in Hampton Roads again. I expected to have some sort of awesome job. After spending 2006-mid 2012 paying my dues, to put it extremely nicely, there are points where I am literally running a daily newspaper. I’m in journalism and there’s no other career I’d rather have. At least I hit a target.
Of those goals I can think off at 3:30 in the morning, I’m probably going to hit them all in a couple of three years. I guess 30 really is 20-10.
I guess, at some point, I’ll finish growing up. I’ve grown For now, I guess I should spend the rest of this year celebrating my 10th anniversary of turning 20.
Onward six or so more years of greying, balding far from boring 20s. As I said last year, look out, 30: I’m coming for you. With a spectacular vengeance.
Oh, and I got this totally frat-tastic birthday gift from Renée. It’s great to be a TauDelt celebrating his birthday.