As my 30th birthday draws ever closer, I'm forced to reflect on my 20s with a hodge podge of thoughts and stupid, girlie feelings. It's a gift, don't hate. In the past 10 years I've moved to St. Louis to start a new life with a man to whom I was engaged, left that man and moved back home, fell in and out of college like a relapsing addict, had several psychotic relationships, graduated from college, started and quit several completely ridiculous jobs, got married, had a life altering surgery, and developed an affection for certain tv series of the 80s and 90s. Following? Super. Here I am at 30's doorstep wondering what the hell I've done that's really made much of an impact. I've endeavored to change my life on many levels, but always seem to come up short. I like to think I've made certain other folks' world a little nicer, but what about mine? In short, I'm not exactly where I thought I'd be at 30. I wanted to be more accomplished, more...important. The conclusion I've reached is this: my 30s must be a time for executing the grandiose plans I had in my 20s. The difference is that I now know how to set a much more realistic course for myself. Your 20s are the finding-yourself-oops-that-was-a-really-stupid-thing-to-do-wow-this-isn't-at-all-what-I-wanna-be-doing-I-should-really-figure-out-what-the-hell-I'm-doing time. So I'll open up the phone lines for all you listeners to share your turning 30 sob (or fan-fucking-tasic) stories. Not too sun-shiney, though...that scares me.
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