30.
This month I will be turning 30. From then on, the digit “2″ will only be in my age once every 10 years.
I’ve come to dislike birthdays. One time I threw a party and only a handful of people came. Since then, I’ve been weary about throwing a party for myself. It could be that I just botched the planning of it and didn’t give the whole thing enough thought… but there’s still a lingering feeling that people just have better things to do then to spend their day with me.
So some years I just don’t put in the effort to plan something. Not because I’m a slouch, but because sometimes I feel bad about asking people to come because they feel bad for not being able to come and then there’s this infinite “feel bad loop” that’s really hard to break.
30 is different though. I’ve been on the earth 3 decades after all. I should do something grand. Celebrate what I’ve done in life. There are a lot of things that I’ve done that I’m really proud of. 30 is a good time to look back and recount those things.
I’ve acted way more than I thought I would have. I’ve made some truly good friends. I’ve landed a job that I’m very fond of. Married a great girl. Seen a good chunk of the world. And laughed. A lot.
It’s somewhat of a sad time too. The fact that you’re getting older and less hip. Gaining (a little) weight. The 9 to 5. Losing energy and needing to drink coffee to get past 2:30pm. And the growing fear that my life might be one big gigantic failure if looked at a certain way.
I don’t think I have too many regrets right now. But its not the regrets that gets me. It’s the fear that I’m heading towards a regret. A feeling that is amplified by being at what I feel is a crossroads. There’s still some time left to change direction if need be. The last threes words of that sentence are key. Maybe I don’t need to…
So yes, birthdays are confusing times. I don’t know whether to hide in bed all day or get drunk. Maybe I’ll do both at the same time this year.
