A little under a year ago, I started Bye-Bye Twenties in the hopes of chronicling my 30th year. I somehow thought that this year would be completely different because I was entering a new decade.
And in some ways, I guess it was different. I fostered a new sense of self, moved beyond being trapped in negative thoughts and emotions, and realized I have every opportunity to take this life and do with it what I choose.
There was a part of me that feared that 30 meant I was getting past my prime…
…but that’s total bullshit. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I’m just stepping into it. And I love it.
So pushing the 30’s Boat off the dock and setting sail into 31 and beyond is part of the reason I’m excited, but there’s actually something else that almost makes me wish I could push fast forward to October 23, 2011. (That's right...almost. Because actually, I don’t want to rush past anything…but if there was also a rewind button, I might consider fast forwarding and then rewinding back. Holy Fuck. DeLorean.)
Here’s the thing: months ago, I don’t even remember how many actually, I watched a movie called “P.S. I Love You.”
Now, it wasn’t the greatest movie in the world, and there were parts of it that would not allow me to suspend my disbelief. Just kind of like
|“Yeah, that’s sweet but…|
|Wait. What the fuuuuu….”|
But there was a part that did resonate: Here was this 30-year-old woman, trying to figure out who she was now and what she wanted to do about it. And to that I could (and still can, actually) totally relate.
Of course, me being one of those people who cries super easily when I’m touched emotionally (and physically, I guess…if it’s a bad touch…too much? Probably. Gross. Uh…anyways), of course when the credits rolled, I was bawling, thinking about my own 30-year-old self and who I was and what I wanted to do about it.
So, I made a list.
|RAWRRRRRRRR!!! I love lists!|
I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish or try or do while I was 30. And it’s been under my pillow ever since. I haven’t even peeked at it once. Sure, I’ve had ample opportunity when changing the sheets, but each time, I keep it folded, place it aside, and put it right back under my pillow.
I don’t remember everything that’s on it. There is one thing I remember, but I know there were specifics that I can’t quite bring to mind. The funny thing is, I’m pretty sure I can check that one off. So now, here I am,
super excited to wake up on the morning of October 23rd, pull back my pillows like a child opening a birthday present…
…sorry, like a rabid child with octopus tentacle arms opening up the first and only birthday present she has ever gotten in her life…and it’s from Daddy Warbucks, so it’s probably pretty good.
I find myself thinking about that list a lot lately. I’ll just be working or sitting quietly, and I find myself going back to writing the list, folding it up, and placing it under the pillow with the promise to myself that I wouldn’t think about it or open it until I had officially crossed the threshold into 31.
I’ve got about 60 days until I can look that baby over, and I can’t wait. It’s almost like a birthday present to myself. I mean, even if I didn’t accomplish most of the things on that list, it just means I now have some more goals for 31.
So now we wait. And I say “we” because I plan to reveal the list, with annotations and thoughts about each item and whether or not it was actually accomplished.
It will be the final post of Bye-Bye Twenties, save for an epilogue. But don’t worry…I have plans for next year’s blog. (One of which is to actually post in it on a regular basis. No really. I mean it.)
Until then, I’m just looking forward to this weekend where amongst a slew of rehearsals, shows (one of which is a fundraiser), and the normal hustle and bustle, I’ll be making time for a little wine, Van Morrison, and possibly chop busting.
Hopefully chop busting.
Almost certainly definitely chop busting.
Hallelujah to all of that.