#NerdsUnite: Confessions of a ginger (dirty 30)

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Layne. I forget how we first started talking ... I think it was on twitter, and then we totes became besties on Facebook, and then we started reading each other's blogs and like commenting and like and like and like ... this chick is RAD annndd she's a ginger. No, seriously. Welcome to the world of Layne and the thoughts that are inside of her head. HIT IT GIRL! </editorsnote> 

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @redheadintexas

Reflecting on my impending death (aka “Turning 30”) has caused some interesting moments for me over the past week. I don’t exactly know why I suddenly started to think about my upcoming 30th birthday, but I have… and so I am experiencing all of the following (all many at the same time):

  •        Fear
  •        Joy
  •        Anxiety
  •        Trepidation
  •        Depression
  •        Confusion
  •        Satisfaction
  •        Calm
  •        Unprepared
  •        Relief

Let’s go through each of these, individually, shall we?

Fear: I’m scared of thirty. Why? I think it’s because I’m afraid that turning 30 means I can’t do certain things anymore… like jam out on a dance floor, or wear a shirt that says ”Push Button; Receive Bacon” (see fig. 1)

Joy: I have actually felt some joy at the thought of becoming a member of the “grown folks” crowd because I know that people older than me will trust that I have actually lived enough life to be given some clout in the way of “life experience” albeit, a very, very tiny amount. Also, fair use of the phrase “I’m too old for this shit” shall be mine! Victory!

Anxiety: I’m not going to lie to you… I have this completely irrational fear that as soon as I wake up on the morning of my thirtieth, my tits will fall to my knees and no less than 37 wrinkles will embed themselves on the currently smooth surface of my forehead. Hey… I said it was irrational.

Trepidation: While, essentially, trepidation is a combination of both fear and anxiety, I have actually had at least one episode of the shakes after working myself up about exiting my twenties… which may or may not have been the result of too much coffee.

Depression: I got a little blue about the fact that I’m not so young anymore, which is not to say I feel old, but to say that society will hold me accountable as an adult—I seriously doubt that I will ever be excused for acting a fool under the basis of “youth.” (i.e. “She’s young… she doesn’t know any better.”) It’s time to put the Big Girl Pants on 24/7.

Confusion: Where did the time go? No, seriously… where the HELL did it all go? I can’t believe it, it’s a trip! I remember scoffing at my elders when they would make the comment “Time goes by faster and faster as you get older.” I filed that under “Things old people say” great… now I’m one of them. Eek!!!

Satisfaction: Because, frankly: I made it. Well, almost. But, you get my point. I will make it to thirty without having any serious life-altering consequences of poor decision making in my younger days (ie drug addiction, botched nose jobs and/or a stint as a hooker). Now, I’m not judging anyone who has done any of the above, I’m just saying that I am truly grateful for the fact that all my limbs and body parts remain in their original, unaltered state… and no one has any damning, photographic evidence of the mistakes I have made in my lifetime, thus far. (Thank the gods!)

Calm: Surprisingly, I had a brief moment of calm clarity at one point this week while contemplating my age… a very dear friend of mine, Andrea, once told me that thirty was such a great year for her, mentally, because she had come to terms with her place in the world. She felt calmer about navigating through life—and I can sort of see how this could be true. I almost feel as though people who have turned thirty have some secret that only they know. I’m hopeful that “calm” makes an appearance in my range of feelings more frequently… and soon. (My boyfriend would agree.)

Unprepared: I don’t WANT to grow up! NOT READY! NOT READY! NOT READY! *dramatically throws self on floor* I mean, I don’t even have a 401K! I have to start planning for RETIREMENT! I’m at death’s door, people! Thirty might as well be 50 and if I’m 50, I might as well just go ahead and die. Ahem…moving along… nothing to see here…

Relief: I’ve been dreading thirty ever since I turned 25… that fateful day when you’re closer to thirty than you are to twenty, and therefore, your mortality begins to peek out of dark places previously covered with things like all-nighters, keg stands and the ability to avoid a hangover. Now, I don’t have to dread it anymore… I can now convert all the energy spent worrying about thirty into energy spent worrying about turning forty… oh, god… oh, no… FORTY?!?! *Sigh*

#nerdsunite

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