Okay, I change my mind… I don’t want to be 30!
I was thinking back on all my fave 90’s movies and the other day I bought a pack of cigarettes for some guy born in 1989 (1989 people!) because he forgot his ID.
Okay, so I can still pass for early to mid 20’s. That’s not the point. The point is that I’m getting old. Like not in the sense of age being just a number. I mean, soon I’ll have to start thinking about wrinkle creams and my breasts falling to my knees, and I’m already getting white hairs.
I have less than two weeks. Yes that part is arbitrary, but it’s symbolic.
This is not where I pictured myself at 30. In reality I didn’t have a clear picture of me at 30. Perhaps that’s how I ended up where I am. I had no plan. So let me fix that since I do have a plan of sorts. I’m going to take a minute right now and picture myself at 40….
…this isn’t easy, there are a lot of variables to consider…
…5 minutes later…
I really can’t do it. I can’t see beyond the things I want in the next three years. Every scenario I think of I’m alone. By alone I mean my friends aren’t there. Only my kid rushing out of the house to go to the mall with her friends while I move a stack of paperwork from the table to my home office. My dog running by my feet.
…thinks really hard some more…
Ok. I think I got something… Yeah, that’s nice. I can live with that.