A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.13

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #28: ...  ... ...

Here's the deal:  I'm just gonna go ahead and forego the final three reasons.  Why?  Because I don't think I care that much anymore to rationalize/excuse/reason-out my turning 30.

Because, the truth of the matter is (...blargh...) I think I'm actually getting excited about it. 

I can't.  Fucking.  Believe it.

ALL DAY, I've just kinda been sitting around like Oh.  Weird.  I'm turning 30 tomorrow, when FOR DAYS!  WEEKS!!   I've been legitimately squeamish over it.  And, I guess, just going through the seven stages of denial over it.  And then, whilst walking into Whole PayCheck late this afternoon, I, for whatever reason, found myself finally reaching that Acceptance-stage.

I have no idea why.

But, all of a sudden, I just found myself going OK.

And then, shortly thereafter:  That's...kinda cool?  I think?

And then, shortly thereafter:  OK, truthfully, my 20s were kinda horseshit. 

This is not to say that a ton of really amazing miraculous things didn't happen in My Twenties.  Obviously they did:  I lived in a series of amazing places, visited more amazing ones, did the grad school-thing, met my boyfriend, met my dog, started doing the Professional-thing, did a lot of the Wedding-things, started being a bystander to the whole Pregnancy-thing, grew some balls...all the things.  These things among other things were glorious things and helped, largely, define what was My Twenties.

But also...I mean, I kinda got my ass handed to me throughout My Twenties.  Lots.  The number of different ways I had my heart broken, the number of different ways that I displayed myself as a complete and total asshole, the number of different times that I found myself scarily drunk, the number of different times that I found myself scarily broke,  the scabies, "the Maggot", the number of different things that I had to find out the hard way, the number of different things that I never ever ever hope to experience ever again...These things among other things were just plain awful, and these, too, helped to largely define what was My Twenties.

At this point, I feel happy to leave it all behind.  To legitimately feel like I've grown a bit from all of it, but to look at these events and occurrences and moments in time and say OK.  They happened.  Then.

What's next?

And I don't know.

And I think I'm over not knowing.  I think I'm just excited to see.  And I think I really mean that.

...

...

...And then I finished writing all of this.  And felt relieved.  Like YES!  PERfect summation of My Twenties!  And I looked at my boyfriend and asked him to read it, as I occasionally do before hitting the Publish-button, because...Well, just because.

"Oh.  Wow."
What?
"Well, that's all pretty sad, don't you think?"
...What?
"I mean, that's an awfully gloomy post.  I didn't realize your Twenties were all that bad."

...And then I lost it.  I lost my shit.

Because they weren't.  All in all, they weren't.  They were simultaneously painful and wonderful and I am, in fact, terrified about leaving it all behind.  I am.

And I lost my shit over it.  And I ran into the other room.

"Honey?"
No.
"Come back, please."
I'm fine.
"Come back.  Please."

And I did.  And I sat.  And I cried and spewed-out a ton of shit about getting old and great triumphs and getting shit on and not being grateful and being too anxious.

"Angela."
What? 

And he's the nicest.

"Nothing defeats you.  Nothing.  Ever.  And I feel like this birthday is defeating you.  And that's so silly.  It's just a number, Angela.  That's it.  There is nothing different other than the number changing.  Yes, OK.  You had all of these things happen to you, and some good, and some bad, and fine.  But you came out of every single one of them with flying colors.  Why on earth should this be any different?"

...And then we heard the neighbors fucking downstairs.  Which was disgusting, but in the grossest and most hilarious of possible ways, felt like a perfect button to my mini-tantrum.

I don't know, guys.  I don't know anything.  I'm sad about it, I'm scared about it, I don't know what to expect from any of it, I don't. And I haven't.

And I think that all just means I'm ready for it.

...

So fucking bring it.

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.12

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #25:  I feel like if everyone else is actually getting excited that I'm turning 30 (cheering about it, hugging, shrieking, all the things), it can't possibly be bad.

Also...like, hot damn, that just feels nice.  THANKS, everyone else!

Reason #26:  My best friend is flying in just for the occasion.  She's FLYING IN.  (Whaaaaaaaaaat?!)  She thought this day was important enough for whatever reason to purchase a hefty ticket, take off from work, and bring her adorable pregnant self across the state for a day and a half.  I mean, I just want to make my turning 30 worth her while, if we're being honest with ourselves.

Hot damn.  So.  Nice.

Reason #27:  This weekend, I was bemoaning my birthday while at work (...of course I was...) and one of my co-workers looked at me and said "Girl.  Relax.  It's just 30."

Also, this co-worker is younger than I am.

Also...I'm starting to think she's right.   

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.11

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #21:  So, your twenties are the ten years of your life that you're supposed to spend wandering around aimlessly trying to figure out what the hell you're doing.  I have only three days left of this Decade of Amble.  I may not know completely what I'm doing, but I'm super thankful for where I've ended up.

Reason #22:  I don't have a mustache.  (Yet...).

Reason #23:  Additionally, I have neither a receding hairline, deep set wrinkles, a prescription for bifocals, or dentures.  And I have a premonition that I might be at least 38 before I acquire any of these things.

Reason #24:  Know what I like?  Theatre.  Know what's exciting?  After thousands of years of hundreds of thousands of written plays, most of the best roles are 30 and over.

(Yesssssssss...)

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.10

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #19:  So, on the not-so-off-chance that 30 might, in fact, not be the best thing that ever happened to me, there is this possibility that it could, at the very least, not get worse.  My sweetheart former roommate and I were discussing this over pork buns (PORK BUNNNNNNNS!!!!!!! Sweet sweet puking jesus) this afternoon.  Said sweetheart former roommate turned 30 just shy of two months ago and, like ya do, like anyone does when they're walking into unfamiliar territory, I wanted her opinion on what I'm getting myself into. 
                  
                 Is it great?
                "Um.  I don't know..."
                 NO?!
                "Nooooo, it just kinda...is."
                 Oh.
                "I'm really still figuring it out."
                 Ah.  Gotcha.
                "Like, I mean, honestly, I'm still going through the same 1/3d Life Crisis.
            At 30.   No different."

...Let it be said that this girl is the singlemost put-together human being I have ever met in my entire life.  Her "1/3d Life Crisises" look much like most peoples' "fairly decent days".  And I love that about her.

Still, I take comfort in the fact that feelings like that, things like that might not change so tremendously.  That's pretty OK.  Really.

Reason #20:  I'm turning 30.  Isn't that right around when a woman's libido starts randomly spiking all over again?  Because I'd be pretty OK with that, tooooo...

OOH!  Maybe I can write a brilliant brilliant follow-up article to that one in The Huff Post in like a year or so: "15 Types of Sex You Have When You're 30 And Your Libido Starts To Go Ape-Shit Crazy".  Yeah.

...Something less wordy?  No?  Perfect.

...

OH MY GOD HOW AM I SERIOUSLY ONLY REALLY REALIZING THIS RIGHT! NOW?!?!

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.9

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #17:  So, I ran into my friend Evan at the gym today, and he's a super super nice bloke.  The super nicest, and he has fond remembrances of being 30.  I cornered him and recorded him saying the following:
      
           "I wanna say Hi to my mom first, and I wanna thank everyone for all that they've done for me...You really don't have to hold the mike that close to my face."
             
            No!  I'm holding it close, I'm holding it close.
           "You've really never used one of these iPhone-things before."
            No!  I have!  Just not...this...part, whatever.   (Because apparently the older I get, the less I know about pseudo technologically advance anythings.)
           
           "OK, so what I was gonna say is being 30 is...awesome, or it was for me becauuuuuuse you have this freedom, and independence, but you also have this maturity and wisdom.  So it's like the best of everything.  
            
           Uh-huh.
           "But then the more responsibilities that add to the maturity if you were, say, 40..."
           Uh-huhhhhh...
           "It's a little less fun, but fulfilling in other ways."
           Ah.
           "Ways that don't involve Tuesday Drunken Brunches."  At which point he leered at me.


And here's what I say to that:
A) Sound advice.  Sounds lovely.
B) Thanks a lot, Evan, now I'm going to be dreading 40 for the next 10 years.
C) And I'm still totally having that drunken brunch.  And it's gonna be awesome. Eat my maple syrupy shorts.

And all of this led me to a brilliant discovery...

Reason #18:  ...I mean, can't I just lie?  I can just become that chick who continually lies about her age.  (Rather "lie within reason".  I'm not gonna walk into an audition tomorrow and be like HEY, GUYYYYYYYYYYYYYS!!! I'M 18, LET'S GO CRAY-ZAYYYYYYY!!!!  Nor will I be that 60 year-old chick begging for body shots because I'M 30, BITCH!!!!!  WHO WANTS SOME TEQUILA IN THIS BELLY BUTTON?!?!)

Gross.  A thousand times gross.

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.8

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #16:  Kristen Wiig.  SHE was never in absolutely anything until SHE was 30 (something called The Joe Schmo Show), and never started kicking ass on Saturday Night Live until she was 32.   Now:  she's GODDAMN KRISTEN WIIG.  She's all iconical and shit, and completely hilarious alongside JON FRIGGIN HAMM in that one movie there that she wrote and starred in:  Bridesmaids.  Maybe you've heard of it.  I don't know. 

So.  Neat.

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.7

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #14:  So, my mom was like 30 or 31 when I was in third grade, and I remember looking at her and trying to envision what kinda chick I'd be when I was her age.   I only recall the following details:
          --owner of a smallish Chevrolet
          --mom haircut
          --mess of kids
          --best friends with a chick much like Stacey from "The Babysitters Club"

I feel excellent that none of these things came to fruition.  ...Most of my friends turned out to be rather Dawn-like, and I dig that.

Reason #15:  My boyfriend is and always has been younger than me and, yeah, my turning 30 pretty much takes my Older Woman-status to another level.  Fine.  BUT, at least I'm still 10-15 years away from Cougar-status.

...Also, for the record, please dear god can no one ever ever call me that?

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.6

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #10:  Every time you have to go ahead and make some big important decision or assume some big important responsibility (ie:  call Nelnet to discuss your student loans, research various health insurance plans, you know, blahhhhhhhhh, that kinda thing that you feel the increasing need to face and you never ever ever really want to), you don't have to just feel like an adult when these things happen anymore, you actually are one now.  Like, for real this time.

Correspondingly...

Reason #11:  As my friend Jim pointed out to me this evening:  "All those people in your family that have been pretending you're a kid all this time, or have called you 'Hey Kid' for all these years, now you can tell them to 'Fuck off' cuz you're not.  You're thirty.  ...You old hag."

And then he slapped me on the ass.  Fine.  And good point, Sir.

Reason #12:  Just in case you'd mulled the possibility over at any point throughout the past...um, 8 years or so, you no longer have absolutely any reason whatsoever to go into/anywhere near the Juniors-section of any department store ever.  (And that shit looks sluttier every week.  Am I RIGHT, or am I right?!)

Reason #13:  I mean, I'm already getting called in to audition for Moms all the time.  The older I get, the more sense that's inherently gonna make. #stillnotprocreatingforEVVVVVVZ

A Starving Artist & The Battle at Dirty Thirty, Ep.5

30 Reasons Why 30 Will Be OK

Reason #8:  My friend Anthony celebrated his 30th birthday tonight, right?  So, a whole bunch of us went to Red Rooster in Harlem, ate chicken & waffles and drank a bunch of glorious things, all in his honor, and it was awesome.  And at some point after one gorgeous tequila-spiked beverage and 2 glasses of wine (WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?! Lush.), I leaned over the table and went (slash "slurred") Anthony.  3-0.  How you feelin?  What are you feeling about it so far?

It's a rare thing to hear my friend get all sweet and sincere.  And heartfelt, and such.  But he just looked at me and smiled all huge, and goes, "Ange.  It's just...good, ya know?  It's good.   I feel really good about it."  Yeah?  "Yeah.  I do."

So:  Awesome.


Reason #9:  Lindsay Lohan is still in her 20s; I'd like to separate myself from that hot mess as much as is humanly possible.  Surely not being a fellow B-List is celebrity is one excellent way of doing so, but I figure being within a different age group entirely can't hurt either.