Thirty

This Sunday I will turn 30. That's right, thirty years old. And I suppose that should intimidate me in some respects - after all, I'm 30, I'm not married, I don't own a house or a car, I don't have kids - what the hell have I been doing with my life???

But I don't know. It's just not bothering me. Right now I'm happier than I've been in... well, pretty much ever. My job is going well (despite the fact that my boss is somewhat clueless, he does trecognize that I'm good at what I do), I've got an outlet for my creativity in the form of my improv, I live an hour away from my family - just close enough to go home on a regular basis but not so close that my mom can just "stop by," and I'm blissfully in love. So thirty doesn't phase me.

Last year, I had a party that I billed as my First Annual 29th Birthday Party. It was tongue-in-cheek. Now that I'm faced with my second annual, hell, it's just easier to embrace the idea that I've had three decades of fun and excitement. Yeehaw!

Don't expect me to feel this way when I turn forty, though.