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Do you ever get that feeling that you are not the person that you were, but that you’re also not the person who you are becoming? I still feel like a kid, sometimes, and sometimes I feel like I should be such an adult… I’m  a 30-year old time-less person, in the same sense that some on the street could probably have a home…

Let me insert here, that I have always loved the age that I am at, and that I have also always looked forward to the next age… and my pre-conceptions are changing. Said preconceptions were this: a woman in her 20’s was beautiful, not terribly accomplished, settled, but still learning about life; a woman in her 30’s was happy, balancing home life and a career, and sexual because she was neither here, nor there (oooh, did I just catch myself?); in the 40’s, a woman who was happy would take her grey hairs and cherish them, and start thinking about grandchildren; at 50, she would be beautifully silver, probably a grandmother, and near retirement; at 60, she would think about how much food her family would need for Christmas dinner, spoil her grandkids, and golf with her husband when she wasn’t busy with this-and-that function, or working on her own little pleasures.

Wow, did my opinion change, even while writing this little blurb… I can’t see that forward image, for me, mostly because there is no way that I am there…

This is (this time) stemming from a conversation I had in horrible, horrible traffic with my boss, returning from a house visit.

She said…

…. she said ….

“I heard 30 is the new 20”.






This is true… of course … to an extent… BUT. There are times when I measure myself on previous generations, and times when I measure myself against the one I was born into. (and, on another dimension, weigh the preconceived “ideals” I had with what I want for the future).

Sometimes, I picture a scrappy little 7-year old, or  even a 7-, a 5-, and a 3-year old attached to me, going to school… and I positively shudder. Biggs is a responsibility that I am, at my time and place, barely able to manage… three kids? My mom was a saint!

And then I jump to the divorce rate… a 50% or greater divorce rate for generations preceeding mine? Can it be turned around? What were the factors? Age? Economics? A lot of people who are actually gay pretending they are not? Maybe I am waiting for a moment of complete honesty… when love is not just that fresh, unexperienced feeling… when you really, really really know what you want… maybe our whole generation is waiting for that, and it’s why we start at 30.

And, I can’t help but think: “It really sucks that 2o is the new 30, because there is no way my body is anything like it was at 20!”… but it’s still kind of expected to be there, for attraction, and for pre-baby-preconceptions… but it’s just not that way. At 20, there was no maintenance required. At almost-30, I’m still not hard-up, but I do gain a lot faster than I lose, and I’m not as physically active as I should be. But how active were those 30-year’s in the 80’s? Chasing after babies? Doing jazzercize to VHS? Those 20-year-old women who were popping out offspring had it easy -they had a good excuse. By the time their kids were ten, they were 30-year-old women… 40, to my generation… maybe 50 to the next…

And THEN I have to think of where I want to live, what I want my home to be like, what I want for my potential children, and then I get all off-track again. I go to size, finishes, textures, furnishings… Then I’m thinking in a circle again…

I never thought I would think these things…

I guess it’s just something you do, in your holy-crap-I’m-almost-30’s. And when you’re in love.

Holy Crap.

December 2009
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