There and Back Again

Little by little, one travels far.

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Thirtysomething

October 17th, 2003 · No Comments

Disposition: Giddy
Listening: Desperado (from The Very Best of the Eagles)
Reading: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Watching: What A Girl Wants (HORRIBLE, save for a leather-wearing Colin Firth!)
Obsessing: Charlie Hunnam
Pondering: Birthdays are the trail of life. (Samantha N. Sims)

In a few days I celebrate my 30th birthday. Yes, the big three-oh! A few acquaintances of mine have asked me how I feel about it. They ask not because they haven’t reached that age yet and are hitting me for pointers. They ask because as folks say, 30 is a milestone, a turning point. Or, it is an age you dread to reach because if life begins at 40, then youth ends at 30.

Am I excited or am I disappointed? I am excited, like I always am when my birthday is in the offing. It doesn’t make a difference whether I’m turning 16, 20, 30 or even maybe if and when I turn 60. For me, birthdays are always something to look forward to. It’s a special moment. It’s the one day out of 365 days in one year that is about me. Of course it’s also about a million others who celebrate their birthday on the 20th of October, but I’d like to think that in my own little corner of the world, in my own circle of friends and loved ones, October 20th is about me.

Am I disappointed that I’m turning 30? Can’t think of a reason why. Age is only a number. It is a reminder of how long I have lived in this world, on this earth. It is not a thing upon which my happiness or success is dependent upon. It doesn’t dictate how I should live my life nor is it going to hinder the dreams I’m still hoping to accomplish.

I don’t worry about how old I get because there are a million other things to worry about. I will worry instead on things such as losing weight, getting concert tickets, finding Shaun deWet’s editorials, saving enough vacation time for another long holiday next year, and how I’m going to start and finish the short story I’ve been wanting to write. The day I start worrying about my age is the day I grow old. And I can only hope I get many more years before I get to that point.

Tags: Daily Musings

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