In two days I won't be in my 20s anymore.
It's a powerful thought.
I'm not particularly sad because it isn't like a whooped it up in my 20s, so there's not much to miss. (Three negatives in a sentence! I wonder what Freud would say to that if he were alive. It is well known, of course, that Freud in his free time hung around blogs; analysing each word of little-known, middle-aged Bengali women.)
But what hits me like a brick in the head is that this means another decade gone and a few more doors closing. I probably never will be an ice skater like I wanted to be. Unless I can turn something around in the next two days. (Can anyone loan me a frilly little pink number in size L? And a magic wand, if you see any lying around.)
I know 30 isn't old at all, even if it was (I hasten to add to all those youngsters rolling their bored eyes with a 'yuop dawg right, aigh' expression) : age is but a number.
Not to mention that the line of work I'm in (i.e. writing documents noone ever reads) there's no sell-by date. If I had had a more exciting life as an actress, or an ice skater, or an er...lady of the night -- I would've been thrown over by an 18 year old smug bitch by now.
To list a few other pros (no, I'm not talking about ladies of the night anymore)-- now that our life expectancy is around 90, I've only covered one-third of my life. I just hope all my body parts last the rest of the way, they already show plenty of wear and tear. (Call me if you'd like further details on my health.)
I, jokes aside, really do believe I've learnt a LOT in these 30 years. About life and love and the world. I intend to save the pearls I've gathered for a later blog tentatively titled "30 Things I've Learnt in as Many Years -- If You Don't Agree With Me, PISS Off".
My sister tells me not to worry; she feels much better at 35 than she felt in her 20s. And she's not just saying that, if you knew her you'd see for yourself.
She may be right.
It's a Friday night at home; I loll on my bed tapping out this post from my husband's laptop (our PC died half a year ago and the laptop took her place in our affections); and he plays along to Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" a few feet away from me. I've had a full and not unpleasant (despite all my posts to the contrary) day at work, I've visited a friend and played with her little son, and spent a pleasant couple of minutes (every now and then) conversing with friends; both at work and at home by email. I've just been handed two birthday cards from my thoughtful in-laws and have spoken to most of my family members in the last 24 hours. My birhday weekend promises to be a full one: with cousins, nephews, poorly done waxworks ("Louis Tussauds"; some wild oat of Madame's, I presume), a Mr. Big concert with husband and friends.
There's no getting away from it: life's good. 20 wasn't too bad, but the life I've made for myself at 30 is pretty damn good as well.
'Nuff said. Happy Birthday to ME! :)