Where did Q1 2011 go? We're on the prowl for a new house, work is ridiculously busy, and oh, I turned thirty. Yeah. Thirty used to be mid life. Half gone. Crisis time.
Well, maybe not. Certainly we're living longer these days, so 30 isn't exactly panic time. I hate the thought of getting old, though. Despite all the shit life dishes out, ultimately, I'm content and don't want it to end. It's still early, but I'm finding it difficult to come to grips with aging.
It seems I've spent most of adult life fulfilling petty childhood dreams. I own a dog. I went to San Diego Comic-Con. I own a Lego Star Destroyer and Death Star. I routinely feed my insatiable appetite for books. I collect original artwork. I order from Previews. I indulge in pretty paper, paint, and all manner of art supplies. I have awesome sex. I watch whatever TV shows I want. I own more than one corset. All these things I wanted as a child, all these small wishes, I've spent the last two decades fulfilling. It sounds selfish and ignoble, but in the end, the little pieces add up to a significant whole.
The best is that I've achieved financial independence. As a teenager, this was my wildest dream, my greatest hope - that some day I wouldn't need to rely on anyone else for money. In my thirtieth year, I can pay my own bills, provide for my loved ones, and plan for the long term. I'm proud of this fact, and while I'm sure the inevitable fall will come, at least for now, it makes turning 30 not so bad.
But then again, mid-life crisis is a good excuse to buy a Maserati...
