On Being 30
This isn’t for you. It’s for me.
This is me, prior to turning 30.
Now I am 30.
I am female.
I like my hair, which is almost black with some gray and a single pink streak.
I live in Austin, Texas.
I like to think one day I will move away and work for America’s Test Kitchen/Cook’s Country.
I do not believe this is actually true.
I am not thin. The opposite of thin. What’s the word? Fat? Yes: I am fat. That’s not self-deprecating, merely true.
I am self-deprecating.
I never thought I’d have 2 degrees at 26.
I never thought I’d be a home owner at 27.
I have two (2) cats, which I blame on other people.
When my boyfriend exits a room and the cats look longingly after him, I like to tell them “Daddy’s gone for cigarettes and he’s never coming back.”
I do not smoke.
I have two (2) degrees, a BA in history and an MA in Secondary Ed.
I am an Executive Admin. I tell people I administer Executives.
I feel I have no direction.
I have been to Canada and Mexico.
I want to fit in.
I do not have cable, but I watch an incredible amount of television.
I have a very good sense of humor; it is very easy to not take things seriously.
Many times my joking makes people uncomfortable, which deeply amuses me.
I may make people laugh, but no one makes me laugh harder than my loves.
I enjoy cooking and writing.
I have been told that as a child I cried a lot. I do not cry as an adult.
I have had no less than twelve (12) bad hair cuts.
I have had no more than seven (7) good haircuts.
I am rough-and-tumble, and wonder what it’s like to be delicate, in a slightly envious way.
I own no less than eight (8) black t-shirts.
I get off topic quite regularly. Generally because I don’t care about the current topic.
I am horrified by the change in women’s rights that has occurred in 2012 alone.
I have zero children. I have been pregnant once.
I swear like a sailor. I don’t mean to.
I claim to hate people in general. This is not entirely inaccurate.
I hate people who turn down education.
I think baby ostriches are fucking adorable.I think adult ones are crazy as shit and would probably die due to provocation if ever I encountered one. Like ex-dinosaurs, those things.
I like Star Wars. Entirely too much.
I like Star Trek. Entirely to0 much.
I like to play games. I periodically cheated at Monopoly as I child, though I now care only for playing and not ever winning.
I like jazz more than I’ve ever let on.
I am stupidly opinionated. I even dislike me half the time.
I can poach an egg like a fucking champ.
I want constantly. It’s horrible and by far one of the traits I dislike most about myself.
I have never known my father without a mustache. I tell people that baby “pinky” mice live underneath it, the mustache being their protective shelter.
When I was a child my mother had braces, as did my brother.
I have never had braces.
I worry constantly. At night the worries become anxiety.
I amazed and entertained by the fact that some American’s bleach their anuses.
I find writing, especially poor writing, to be the most self-indulgent crap that’s swirling around the interwebs. (I’m looking a you, current post.)
I truly love joy. I find it exciting, and easily the best part of life and laughing.
I am immensely fortunate because, if nothing else, my boyfriend “gets” me. He truly does.
I am 30. And that’s just fine with me. For now.
This is me today. Not much has changed.
One thought on “On Being 30”
May 3, 2012 at 5:22 pm
Being the owner of 75+ pairs of Chucks, I love the pink pair you’re wearing in the picture. Not to be a wiseass but did you have a thing for the Punky Brewster look?
I’ll do one better. This is what I looked like when I turned 16.
It has been downhill since that birthday party.
Keep writing! Keep pushing! Keep trying!
I too feel like my site is just a message in a bottle, hoping someone stumbles upon it, reads and leaves comments…to stir up a conversation, not to stroke my ego.