The Thing About Thirty (part 1)

It seems that 2013 has become the year of whining, despair, panic, and other sorts of general negativity.

Why, you ask? Because this year my friends and I are all turning 30.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

This is the year where we bitch about entering a new decade. Where we pretend that we're actually just turning 29 again. Where we realistically consider that now is the moment when we begin to lie about our age FOR THE REST OF OUR GOD FORSAKEN LIVES.

As we celebrate each new 30th birthday, hidden amongst the celebrations, the drinks and the dinners, are the sinister comments of those who have already hit that 3-0 milestone.

"Welcome to the club!" they cackle gleefully in a way that should be reserved only for fairy tale witches. "So glad to have company here in the DEPTHS OF THIRTY YEAR OLD HELL," they're clearly thinking. They may give you a birthday card, but what they really wanted to give you was an AARP card.

To these people I say: RELAX. Kill the dramatics for a hot second and let's stop freaking out about something that's not actually all that bad.

I say this, of course, from the comfort of 29. Those of you who have already hit the 30 mark may be thinking how unqualified I am to pontificate on what it means (or doesn't mean) to officially enter into your 4th decade of life. You may feel that I'm no more able to genuinely describe what it's like to turn 30 than I would be able to describe what it was like to fight in World War II.

The thing is, though, I don't care about turning 30. I'm not dreading it or freaking out about it, probably because I realize that nothing really changes. When I turn 30 in October of this year I will still be the same person as I am now, who is essentially the same person as I was last year and the year before. In fact, the only difference between Arielle at 30 and Arielle at 22 and is that only one of those people has a Master's degree. And this is kind of a blip on the radar because if you learn one thing in your 20s it's that no one is impressed by anyone else's graduate degrees.

While I'm not worried about turning 30, I'm a little worried about the fact that I'm not worried about turning 30. And therein lies the problem.

I can't help but wonder if something is wrong with me. What is it about turning 30 that puts THE FEAR into all my friends? Is it because they all set some lofty goals for themselves (Run a company! Have 16 babies! Own a vacation home! Write the Great American Novel!) that they didn't reach? I think maybe my problem here is that I never really set lofty goals for myself. Sure, there are things I would like to maybe accomplish one day (Write even a subpar book of personal essays! Meet at least 1 dude in NYC who is not the worst fucking person ever! Buy another jar of that bloody mary mix I really like even though I never drink at home!), but never in my past did I look forward to 30 and envision what my life would be like at that time.

It concerns me that I'm not much of a forward-thinker.  Because even though it means I'm approaching 30 much more happily than those around me, I don't think it bodes well for my life in the long-term. How am I supposed to ever accomplish anything (Own a pair of shoes that aren't from Payless and some jewelry that doesn't turn my skin green!) if I don't think about what I'd like to accomplish? Am I so immature that I don't mind growing older because I'm failing to take an active interest in my own personal growth?

Possibly. But until I figure that out, I'm just going to continue to do what I do. And not care.