I’ll admit it – I enjoy a good birthday. I’m not particularly one for having people make a big fuss or being the focus of too much attention (especially in public), but I love that birthdays give you a great excuse to plan big social activities, mix and match your friends, and drink copiously on your friends’ dimes. Whether having my Macon sisters serenade me with karaoke at the world’s smallest, grungiest dive bar or chanting along with Barra Brava at RFK (Vamos!), I’ve always focused more on the fun side of birthdays and less on the reality.
The reality is that – I’m aging. I am getting older, year by year, and despite my youthful visage (though a once-beloved uncle noted at Christmas that I was really starting to look my age in the face…), next week, I will be two years from turning 30. To all the readers who are over 30, yes, yes, I know. 30 is not the end of the world, it’s not the end of my youth, it’s not even the end ticket discounts for most theatres. But it is symbolic. I can’t help but think about what I thought “30” would be like when I was a kid – I imagined by that advanced age, I’d easily be a Congresswoman or running CNN or managing the Houston Astros (I had very specific dreams), all while perfectly balancing a very handsome husband (Astronaut Mike Dexter, perhaps?) and 2.5 well-behaved children.
That’s not what my dream for 30 looks like now. I don’t really believe my life is meant to pursued as a strive for one picture-perfect end point but instead should be made up of more and more amazing little journeys. So, along that vein, over the next three days I’ll be sharing the 30 adventures I want to have before I turn 30. I hope by posting them here, you’ll all hold me accountable.