Are you guilty of making age demands of yourself? You know the ambiguous “Before I turn 30, I will…” kind of to-do list. I am.
Hello, my name is Jess, and I thought I’d be famous before I was 30. I suffer from delusions of grandeur and I’m sorry.
I blame Anne of Green Gables. I daydreamed that I was going to be a visionary of my time, and all anyone knows me for is an ad about baking powder…
You know what I mean.
I made a few too many expectations of myself and where I’d be in life by the time I turned 30. The big 3-0 is just six months away and I’m radically looking at my goals and having to rewrite them. Which is, to say the least, disheartening. But it needed to happen. I know that now.
As I’m reevaluating where I’m going and where I’ve come from, a scary thought crossed my mind. What if I turn into…my parents?
I’m serious, you guys. What if I start gifting my friends with bottles of free butt soap instead of actually going shopping for them? (my dad)
What if I start wearing sneakers so white the coast guard asks me to stop interfering with their light house schedule? (my mom and dad)
What if I start writing letters to people and fill them with grammar notes? (like my mom)
What if I start eating one bite of a fun size candy bar and I’m still eating the same candy bar days later? (like my dad)
Where will it end?
I mean none of you are gonna read a blog about arthritis and egg shell infused gardening dirt. Are you? I need to know because it could come to that.
Am I having a quarter-life crisis? This is just a quarter-life crisis, isn’t it?
But what if I’m older than a quarter-life crisis? Is this a pre-mid-life-post-quarter-life crisis? What do I do in case of emergency?
Do I need to get into the basement? Does this require a transistor radio? I know what my mother would do. She’d put pillows in all the windows so when the glass breaks it won’t gouge out my eyes.
At least I’ll have time to edit my to do list.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the basement.
I’ve got one bag of fun size Snickers bars,
so I’m guessing I can survive the next 30 years.
What was your irrational goal before 30?