In 21 days (or three weeks), I will be 29. It’s not a big deal for my readers, but it is for me. It suddenly opens my mind to everything. What do I need to do in this last year of my twenties? What have I done with my life? Am I proud of my choices? Am I ready for the next phase of my life, which will come 365 days from now?
I did this on my 25th birthday, and I depressed myself. Nothing like spending a good portion of your birthday in a funk because you’re messed up with your life. Thankfully, my friend came over and I forgot all about it.
This year, I fully intend to go to Barnes and Noble and spend as long as I choose in there. Nobody rushing me, and I can buy lots of books. I am obsessed with Tana French‘s Dublin Murder Unit books (I’m getting book #3 on Tuesday, and the fourth comes out two days after my birthday). My mom is invited to come along, since she’s also a bibliophile and she doesn’t rush me. And if we were to get bored in the bookstore, all we have to do is walk across the street to the mall. My mom and I are pretty much the only ones in our family that have no problem walking to someplace we want to go.
It’s like I’ve said before, I am pretty much prepped for this transition. I already refer to myself as if I am thirty, and it’s strange. But I really don’t fear it as much as I did when I was twenty-five.