It would appear I have fallen off the face of the Earth considering my lack of commitment to either of my blogs in the last few months. I have not (yet). I thought I'd drop a few lines about my Birthday/the day Mexico celebrates me.
Thus far, this has been a truly adult birthday. I did laundry. I paid bills. Ran errands. And as of now, I'm preparing to go to dinner with some friends who have for the past 4 or so years, gone to dinner with me on my Birthday. Which I might add is a blast. My friends are smart, they know I will never say no to food and/or wine, nor will I ever decline to sit around a table with them. Additionally, a group of them, knowing that my modes of transport tend to last me roughly 6 months- 1 year a piece, have been truly awesome in funding a new bicycle since- wait, did I ever tell you that I had 2 bicycles stolen in less than 2 weeks last summer? Well I did. And recently, when my current car's alternator belt went on a hiatus I was fairly annoyed that I didn't have a stand in bicycle. I love to ride a bike- even more so when it's not my only form of transport. So this has been a really great day which will no doubt end in much hilariousness and most likely, some form of debauchery.
This is my last birthday before I turn 30. I am not really afraid of aging so much as terrified of "middle age." I'm not really sure when you're officially considered middle aged, but I wish I could skip whatever that designated time period is all together and go straight to "old." Why you ask? I'm a bartender. I witness plenty of middle aged women and let me tell you, I like them the least as clients. It's like the awkward age of not giving up enough youth and wearing clothes and hairstyles that are unfitting. It's the age where if you're not married yet you start to lose your shit. It's the age of the first-life-partner-is-probably-going-to-need-to-go-oh-shit-I-have-a-mortgage-crisis. These women scare me. They scare me when they wear too small clothing from Aeropostale yet have feathered hair. They scare me when they come to the bar in at least twos as part of a large group but sit and and talk maliciously about the others before they arrive. I don't want to be catty and worried about trying to look young to impress some likely non-perfect "perfect" potential mate that probably doesn't exist anyway! I don't want to go through a divorce! I also don't want to be rude and mean to bartenders about "my" drink (that I'm literally calling by the wrong name) and yelling at them to make my madras (it was really a bay breeze) correctly! It's apparently inevitable. And what? It's not like middle age lasts a couple years like all the other groupings of years pre that do. My guess is it lasts about from about 40-60 (or something?) and only in the late middle to end of it do you get to start giving pep talks to younger people and start feeling like a tampon commercial- free and doing exactly what you want!
Here are some examples: between 18-21 you're still able to be a kid and screw things up. You get to use the excuse you're still learning to be a grown up in some manner. Between 21 and 25, again, you're still becoming a grown up but the exploits of 18-21 seem much more stupid. You may still be part of such exploits but they aren't as funny any more and you tend to keep the items lacking dignity to yourself- instead of posting them on facebook along with pictures of yourself that just shouldn't exist let alone be public. Now, 25-30. Expected to have pulled your shit together considerably and even if you haven't, unless you're a complete hot mess, everyone thinks you have. Still working out life goal kinks, still milling through the reasons to or not to live some place, take some job, still not making a million dollars and therefore struggling to pay all the loans for your awesome social science degree, and stuck in existential crisis mode constantly but it's still okay. Not in middle age though! That's not cool. That's the age of competition to have your shit together more than everyone else your age and if you don't you have to become a royal bitch to prove you have control over something.
I'd rather skip that all together and just be 80, waving a cane at people with long scary white hair like Charlie's Grandmother in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! I want to just be old and wise and curse like a trucker. I want to be my Grandmother, with the patience of a saint and the ability to tell jokes and stories faster and better than Margaret Cho.
So for this year, I'm totally going to enjoy that I'm not yet 30. Not because 30 scares me, or even 35 necessarily. Forty five however, needs to be a decade ahead or behind me at all times.
Shout out to Mexico! Love!
Thus far, this has been a truly adult birthday. I did laundry. I paid bills. Ran errands. And as of now, I'm preparing to go to dinner with some friends who have for the past 4 or so years, gone to dinner with me on my Birthday. Which I might add is a blast. My friends are smart, they know I will never say no to food and/or wine, nor will I ever decline to sit around a table with them. Additionally, a group of them, knowing that my modes of transport tend to last me roughly 6 months- 1 year a piece, have been truly awesome in funding a new bicycle since- wait, did I ever tell you that I had 2 bicycles stolen in less than 2 weeks last summer? Well I did. And recently, when my current car's alternator belt went on a hiatus I was fairly annoyed that I didn't have a stand in bicycle. I love to ride a bike- even more so when it's not my only form of transport. So this has been a really great day which will no doubt end in much hilariousness and most likely, some form of debauchery.
This is my last birthday before I turn 30. I am not really afraid of aging so much as terrified of "middle age." I'm not really sure when you're officially considered middle aged, but I wish I could skip whatever that designated time period is all together and go straight to "old." Why you ask? I'm a bartender. I witness plenty of middle aged women and let me tell you, I like them the least as clients. It's like the awkward age of not giving up enough youth and wearing clothes and hairstyles that are unfitting. It's the age where if you're not married yet you start to lose your shit. It's the age of the first-life-partner-is-probably-going-to-need-to-go-oh-shit-I-have-a-mortgage-crisis. These women scare me. They scare me when they wear too small clothing from Aeropostale yet have feathered hair. They scare me when they come to the bar in at least twos as part of a large group but sit and and talk maliciously about the others before they arrive. I don't want to be catty and worried about trying to look young to impress some likely non-perfect "perfect" potential mate that probably doesn't exist anyway! I don't want to go through a divorce! I also don't want to be rude and mean to bartenders about "my" drink (that I'm literally calling by the wrong name) and yelling at them to make my madras (it was really a bay breeze) correctly! It's apparently inevitable. And what? It's not like middle age lasts a couple years like all the other groupings of years pre that do. My guess is it lasts about from about 40-60 (or something?) and only in the late middle to end of it do you get to start giving pep talks to younger people and start feeling like a tampon commercial- free and doing exactly what you want!
Here are some examples: between 18-21 you're still able to be a kid and screw things up. You get to use the excuse you're still learning to be a grown up in some manner. Between 21 and 25, again, you're still becoming a grown up but the exploits of 18-21 seem much more stupid. You may still be part of such exploits but they aren't as funny any more and you tend to keep the items lacking dignity to yourself- instead of posting them on facebook along with pictures of yourself that just shouldn't exist let alone be public. Now, 25-30. Expected to have pulled your shit together considerably and even if you haven't, unless you're a complete hot mess, everyone thinks you have. Still working out life goal kinks, still milling through the reasons to or not to live some place, take some job, still not making a million dollars and therefore struggling to pay all the loans for your awesome social science degree, and stuck in existential crisis mode constantly but it's still okay. Not in middle age though! That's not cool. That's the age of competition to have your shit together more than everyone else your age and if you don't you have to become a royal bitch to prove you have control over something.
I'd rather skip that all together and just be 80, waving a cane at people with long scary white hair like Charlie's Grandmother in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! I want to just be old and wise and curse like a trucker. I want to be my Grandmother, with the patience of a saint and the ability to tell jokes and stories faster and better than Margaret Cho.
So for this year, I'm totally going to enjoy that I'm not yet 30. Not because 30 scares me, or even 35 necessarily. Forty five however, needs to be a decade ahead or behind me at all times.
Shout out to Mexico! Love!
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