I have struggled to write something all week and have accomplished nothing more than a headache and general disdain for my keyboard.
My muse appears to have moved on. Curse thee, fickle muse!
You see, Dear Reader, I am making an effort to return to regularly posting weird snippets but it is much more difficult than I remember!
Much, much, much more difficult!
To help build back my broken habit and to combat my angry writers block I have decided that this week instead of writing original content or trying to be clever I will just share a recent email chain between me and dear old Dad.
Let me set the scene: It is last week and I have just posted my first blog entry in an eon. I decide to inform my Father as I am under the assumption that my email will somehow reach him faster than the automated message from WordPress that brings him news of my newest post. My Father, who has been nagging me for MONTHS to write again will no doubt be pleased …
—– Original Message —–
Sent: Wed, 08 Mar 2017 2:17 PM
Subject: Top Secret
I posted a new blog post. It’s shit, but it’s a start.
For my reward (and birthday present) I want a jumbo bag of cadbury mini eggs given in a brown paper bag with shifty eyes and while hiding in the garage.
Received: Mar 8, 2017, at 9:03 PM, Dad wrote:
… Congrat’s… it’s really good!
Sent: Wed, 08 Mar 2017 9:14:PM
Subject: Re: Congrat’s
Yes, but what about those mini eggs?
I am turning 30 in exactly twenty five days.
(I’m not going to lie there is a large part of me that is kicking itself for not getting this post out five days earlier so I could have talked about my “Thirty Day Countdown to Thirty. Alas such are the perils of short sightedness and the art of missed opportunities!)
Twenty Five Days from now I will hit the big one, the big 3-0 and I honestly am feeling pretty ok about this.
Not thrilled, but also not devastated. You know, kind of ambivalent? Very meh?
Sure, I’m not “Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving” like Jennifer Garner always lead me to believe I would be and there are so many things I would change if I could, but I’m also fairly confident with my place in life. I’m better off than most and not as well off as others, and isn’t that just the perfect spot to be as a millennial?
Still, this Big Birthday does carry some significance and as such I feel the need to commemorate it with a list of some sort. Obviously. Though really it’s more of a rambly stream of thoughts than a traditional list … perhaps this is a sign of my advancing senility?
But I digress.
Without further ado I bring to you Dear Reader(s?) (Are there more than one of you left after my lengthy absence? Or is it just my Dad?) “Thoughts on Thirty”:
- I can finally play a teenager on TV. (Assuming I could act, which I can’t.)
- The above mentioned reference is clearly dated as actors in their early twenties now play teenagers and the early 90s practice of having really old people play kids a la ‘Saved By The Bell’ is a bit passé. This is yet another sign of my advanced age.
- Instead I can act as the love interest of Harrison Ford, Clint Eastwood, or any other aged film star past his prime. (Or at least I can for another two years; I think the cap on playing the love interest of a 60+ year old in Hollywood is 32. Better double check with Maggie Gyllenhaal.)
- In non-Hollywood related thoughts I can finally say a firm, all caps “NO” to going out on evenings and weekends without getting sucked into the FOMO lifestyle of twenty-something’s.
- In addition to point 4, I can finally make fun of FOMO out loud instead of just as part of my internal monologue.
- And Bae. Anyone who says Bae in my company is going to receive a disparaging glare and will earn my eternal ridicule. This really has nothing to do with turning thirty, I just hate abbreviations. Especially abbreviations that make me feel old. (My apologies to fellow bloggers who say “Bae, FOMO, totes, etc.” I still like you even if your posts make my brain bleed.)
- Which reminds me, is “On Point” still a thing? Like, is this Post On Point? I just have no idea anymore.
- But, in more positive news, turning thirty brings me one year closer to being debt-free – just another 276 years of paying the minimum payment on all of those credit cards to go and I’ll kick that sucker in no time!
- With the advancements of science and technology I may actually live to see those 276 years go by so I can celebrate my debt-free existence with an unnecessarily large and frivolous purchase that I cannot afford.
- Boxed wine is no longer acceptable. Instead spring for the $12 bottle and drink it like you understand a word the liquor store guy said about “tannins”.
- Can I drink this wine and toast to being unmarried? Does that make me independent and worldy?
- What if I cry into the glass and just tell my horrified friends that the salt in the tears brings out the tannins?
- Who needs marriage anyway?
- And how should I respond to the complete stranger telling me that my ovaries are dead? Is it considered rude to kick strangers in the genitals?
- What if I just carry around a bottle of baby vomit and a recording of a child crying and chase the perpetrator around with both until they sob uncontrollably and leave me alone?
- Can strangers tell I am bitter?
- Also, is thirty really the new twenty?
- And what does that even mean?
Full Disclosure: I originally wanted to write “Thirty Thoughts on Turning Thirty” but I really just don’t have that many thoughts about this whole thing. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.
Perhaps it’s good that I am attempting to return to blogging, this gal clearly needs some practice on her introspection.
It’s been ten years since I finished High School and I still have that same dream where I forget to do my homework and fail all of my classes.
Oh Anxiety, my dear friend, what would I do without you? (Aside from get an actual good night’s sleep …)
PS. Dear Reader, I am back from Vacation and maybe, possibly, most likely back to blogging.