Thursday, May 3, 2012

"See, Julie, the years between 14 and 32 are a very confusing time for a young girl."*

        As I approach 30, I keep thinking I’ll suddenly discover who I am and what I’m all about. I think that’s what 30 has started to represent to me in my mind: a magical age where you suddenly have some answers about life. You know: what kinds of colors really suit you (I’ve found from an online quiz that I’m a cool winter), what kind of guys you go for (ones with jobs, hopefully, and cars preferably—this is LA, after all. You can’t really take the bus and if you ride a bike I hate you.), and what kind of movies you’re willing to see in the theatre (anything that doesn’t give me nightmares is okay.  No Human Centipede, thank you very much. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit typing that).
        But really it seems like it might be more about figuring out what kinds of foods give you diarrhea, what kind of music gives you a headache and what kind of skincare products make you break out despite being long out of adolescence.
When I was little, I thought this is what self-discovery was all about.**
        Well, it turns out I’m really dumb. I thought I was going to know so much by now about who and what I am for real. Like, what kind of politicians really rock my world and which charities I would give money to if I had money and how I feel about current events and what my stance might be on Global Warming or blood diamonds or “No Child Left Behind” (not even sure that last one is still a thing).
        Maybe it’s because I’m not 30 yet. My dear buddy, Mike, turned 30 today, so maybe he has his shit figured out now. I should call him and ask.
        I guess I’m thinking about this especially because I received some very sweet compliments last night from two lovely young ladies that I know and they blew my mind. They called me “hilarious” and “confident” and other things that it would be boastful to mention. But my takeaway from the whole situation (after feeling incredibly awkward accepting their delightful praises) was this: do other people see me in a totally different way than I see myself?
        I’ve never felt that “confident” could be a word used to describe me. Have I changed? Is it because I’m older than they are that they think I’m confident? Maybe it’s because I fake it a lot when I’m uncomfortable? Who am I? What’s going on?
        Anyway, as you can see, my “shit” isn’t yet figured out. But I will do an update when I actually turn 30 and we shall see if I know what’s up. (Goddamn you, prepositions!)
*Monk to Julie on Monk. I had a quote from The Sound of Music, but I like this better.
**The NeverEnding Story (Wolfgang Petersen, 1984). That movie sucked because a horse drowned in some mud. Don't know why I insisted on renting it so many times...

1 comment:

  1. Dear scribe, who is my child:if you have everything figured out by age 30, will you contact your twice-your-age mother and clue ME in? You are hilarious (not only Sammi and Tasha appreciate that quality) but [among a multitude of things] I treasure in you, is that you are hopeful. Hang on to that, little bear. xoxo