Act Your Age

So, Friday is my birthday.

It's not a milestone of a birthday and I'm not that upset about it. It will just be a change for me, a new era, if you will. Friday I turn thirty-one. Friday I will no longer be "thirty, flirty, and thriving. Friday will mean I am officially in my thirties.

This is okay. I can handle it. For one: sometimes I think I look like a twelve-year-old boy. I think it's my hair and my love of silly t-shirts. I'm okay with that. Just yesterday I was complimented by the cashier at Total Wine when I showed her my ID she said "Wow, I didn't think you were that old". Thank you, cashier who was probably barely old enough to sell me the six tiny bottles of vodka I needed to make my Cosmo Pops (recipe here). That's the kind of thing that doesn't make getting old seem so bad.

Of course, there are things, like an article shaming people for reading Young Adult novels (how rude) that make me feel guilty for getting older. Yeah, guilty for reading and enjoying what I read. (I do what I want, lady.)

Here's the thing: I don't act old because I don't feel old. Yeah, sometimes my joints hurt, I need more sleep than I used to, and I don't party the same way...but I've got a young heart, you see. Just last night at praise band rehearsal we were talking about age and one of my friends said to the other (not to me) "I'd never guess you were that old because you don't act your age". It's a compliment, if you ask me, when someone says that. But at the same time, how am I supposed to act at my age?

How does anyone know when we're all so damn different?

Two of my favorite television shows are Friends and How I Met Your Mother. Both of these shows are about thirty-somethings living in New York City. It showcases all their relationships, their job struggles, and their extra-curricular activities. In Friends the majority of the "hanging out" happens in a Central Perk, the coffee shop. Where as in HIMYM they are always at McClaren's, the bar downstairs.

If I based my "acting my age" on these two shows that people in my generation actually grew up with I'd split my time between being totally wasted and too strung out on caffeine to function!

When my mother was my age she was looking to have her second child and I was ten years old. When my Mema was my age she had just had my mother, her fourth daughter! Here I am going to be thirty-one and contemplating which book I'm going to read next or which television show I'm going to binge on this week.

I can't act my age, because I don't know how. I don't know how my age is supposed to act! Wine tastings? Art galleries? Silent movies? (Snoozefest 2014 if you ask me. I'll be going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter for my birthday!)

All I know is how to be me.

My recent binge on Veronica Mars made me feel this was a necessity.

The me I am likes to read Young Adult novels and is not ashamed of it, no matter what that rude woman says. (I read all kinds of books, not just YA, thankyouverymuch.) The me I am likes to be interested in things wholeheartedly and not half-ass things. The me I am likes superhero movies over male stripper movies and that is just fine with me. The me I am loves her job, family, friends, church, cat, books, etc...

The me I am will be enjoying life in my thirties with people of all ages, who help keep me grounded and make me feel young, but most of all make me smile.

I hope you don't "act your age", either.

Where's My Spoiler Alert?

Did you ever read a book or see a movie and wish that someone would have told you the “big surprise” about it, or is that just me? I don’t like to be surprised. It's something that I've dealt with since I was a small child, and I just don't like it. I don't like things jumping out at me, I don't like not knowing the end of something, or whats' going to happen. I just don't like it. It takes almost every fiber of my being not to read the end of books when I get a new one. I’m guilty of googling spoilers to movies (sometimes in the theaters) just so I’m not surprised. I don’t like surprises, okay?

Some things can’t be googled, though. Some things you have to find out for yourself, or even wish that someone would clue you in. For example: why doesn’t anyone warn you about what happens when you turn thirty? It is really like that adorable Jennifer Garner movie 13 Going on 30?

Spoiler alert: IT’S NOT.

Here’s why:

Things start to hurt. By “things” I mean body parts. And by “body parts” I mean Hey, did my knees always make that noise when I got out of bed? Guess what? No, no they didn’t. I’m pretty sure that thirty is the age in which your body has had enough and starts to deteriorate. Back aches, muscle pains, head aches, heartburn. I mean, honestly. You’ve gone thirty years in the same body and it’s (hopefully) got all of its originally parts and now it starts to fall apart? How lame.

You literally lose your mind. When I turned thirty I started a blog, started running, and got a tattoo. Maybe that’s not as crazy as quitting your job and moving to some far off place to start a brand new life, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it! To me, thirty is a weird age. You’re not old enough to start worrying about the big stuff and you’re not young enough to get all wild and crazy without looking like a fool. So, what happens? You can’t decide what you want to do and lose your damn mind.

Hangovers. Look. I partied a lot in my younger days. I could hang with the best of them. There were nights when I was pretty sure my liver would have physically removed itself from my body to be free of me (too much?), but now that I’m old? Psssh. First of all, I’m too tired to drink, let alone “party”. And, second of all, when I do “party” it takes days, days to recover. (Please note that when I say “party” I mean have two beers and go to bed after 10PM.)  I used to just be able to grab a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich and chug a Dr. Pepper and all would be just fine. These days there are things that even bacon can’t cure and that scares me.

I’m very tired. Maybe it’s just because I work a lot. Or maybe it’s the fact that turning thirty means you need more sleep than a person that’s…twenty-nine. I swear I didn’t need this much sleep when I was just a wee twenty-nine year old. (Please note: I also do not have children and, yes, I’m complaining about sleep. It’s my blog and I do what I want to.)

Everything you liked you now hate. I’ve basically cleaned out my closet a million times since I’ve turned thirty. I clean out my iTunes, my DVD collection, my classroom, my books (precioussssss). I’m older. More sophisticated. Less Old Navy t-shirts, more LOFT t-shirts! Less boybands, more bands with men who play instruments (BANJOS)! Less books about magical crap…no, I still like that. ;)

Just kidding, I still like most of this stuff. I always regret a clean out. Earlier this week I attempted to clean out my “ironic t-shirt collection”. I ended up getting rid of four shirts. Then I went back into the donation bag and took two of them back. Look, the majority of my shirts are either Harry Potter or Captain America themed and they are awesome. So, not all of your tastes change.

Save the drama for your llama. I’m thirty and I’m over it.

You are, very simply, more awesome. Thirty, flirty, and thriving, right? That’s what people kept telling when I was going through my turning thirty depression. But, really, thirty is pretty cool. You’re thirty years wiser. Thirty years more sturdy. Thirty years of experience for a colleague or friend or kid (if you’ve procreated by the time you hit thirty). Thirty years more awesome.

It’s taken me a while to come to grips with how awesome thirty is, but I kind of like it. Of course, in a few short months I’ll be saying goodbye to thirty. I’ll no longer just be thirty. I’ll be in my thirties.

I probably will lose my mind then. 

PS - I turned thirty a while ago. Another thing? THIRTY MAKES YOU FORGET THINGS. 

Even God is Single

I love the holidays.

Food, family, friends, gifts…did I mention food? Yeah, holidays are awesome.

You know what I don’t love about holidays?

The question. You know the one.

Are you seeing anyone?

You dating anyone?

Met anybody yet?

You’re going to be an Old Maid!

Tina gets it.

Okay, that last one wasn’t a question, but has actually been said to me by my Papa. He’s old, though, so I let it go.

Funnily enough, my family wasn’t too bad this Thanksgiving. Maybe they’ve finally given up on asking. Or maybe they’re just finally convinced I’ve turned into the crazy cat lady.

"Zazzy."

Truth is, I’m not the crazy cat lady. My cat doesn’t like anyone else (imagine that!), so I will never get to be that cat lady. It’s kind of sad when you think about it. Of course, that really just means that I’ll actually have to find a significant other one day.

One day.

I’m okay with that. Really. But in the meantime, I really really love being single. I love being single for a few reasons (which I will tell you about in due time, my precious), but they are probably not the reasons most people think, ie: partying, hanging out, doing stupid things.

Y’all, I get to do what I want all the time.

That’s not to say I don’t spend time with friends and family and work, but if I want to go to a movie, I do. Shopping? Do it. Sit on the couch all day and drink coffee and read a book? Done and done (multiple times). Take a trip to a third-world country? Did it. Twice.

But traveling and doing awesome things like not wearing make up or real pants are not the only perks that I favor, okay? (I’m currently sipping on a Woodchuck cider in an Avengers Tervis tumbler with a straw, I think a boyfriend would find that weird.) At this point in my life, I’m still learning about me. Yeah, I’m thirty and to some people that’s old, but statistics show that the majority of people are actually waiting until their thirties to get married. Science is letting us wait longer to have children (I’m adopting a child who is already potty trained). And, if you ask me, that’s a good thing. I remember being engaged many moons ago and thinking that the relationship I was in was so awesome and pretty and perfect, but it totally wasn’t. Sometimes I think back and just shake my head because I was in no way ready to get married at twenty-one. Now, I know plenty of people who did get married at that age and are in beautiful, thriving relationships. I’m totally happy for them. But I know that it’s not for me. Not yet.

I’m pretty content with working and focusing on being the best teacher I can be right now. Yes, I’m married to my job, but I’m okay with that because it’s the best job in the world. I like the cat and I like my family. I have some pretty cool friends and colleagues who keep me entertained and worry about my love life (or lack thereof).

I guess you could say I’m kind of...happy.

So, maybe I will be an Old Maid, but I might just be okay with that. I know that if I wait to find the right person then it will truly be right. I’m totally one of those people who believe that there’s some poor sap out there for me, but we just haven’t crossed paths yet. God help him, when we do though. 

Jess knows what's up. 

Or I can take a page from Will Grayson and say:

“I’m not asexual, I’m arelationshipal.” (Quote from Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green.)

I’m kidding, obviously, but that would be a fun response next time someone asks if they can set me up for online dating.

Yes, you look like this when you try to set me up. 

But really, dating isn’t something that’s on the top of my list right now. Right now I get to focus on me and becoming as awesome as I can be. Unless, that is, this guy comes a knockin’. Then all bets are off.

 

God bless (Captain) America.

PS – The title of this blog is actually the title of a cute little coffee table book I got for a dollar a few years ago: Even God is Single (so stop giving me a hard time) by Karen Salmansohn. 

Fill in the Blank

Have you ever reached a point in your life and decided: “I’d like to do _________.”

What’s in the blank?

There is a ton, ton, of things that could fill in the blank for me. Here are a few:

1.)    Get a tattoo (Really.)

2.)    Buy a house. (Really)

3.)    Go back to school. (HAHAHAHAHAHA!)

4.)    Meet a nice dude who doesn’t mind if I’m a little weird. (See comment for #3.)

5.)    Run a 5K. (Seriously? Why, why, and why?)

Currently I have Dory’s song from Finding Nemo stuck in my head: “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…” because that’s how I feel about running.

Y’all.

I hate it.

I hate it with the white hot burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. I mean, that’s a lot of hate. So, why am I putting myself through this torture? Why have I made this “list” of sorts? Something big happened to me last month.

Yeah, I turned 30.

T-H-I-R-T-Y.

Th-th-th-thirty as a close friend would say.

It’s okay, though. I’m handling thirty well, I think. I haven’t jumped off the deep end or decided to do anything crazy. I don’t think running a 5K is that crazy. I think running is torturous and barbaric, but I’m going to push through because I’m no quitter! Really, you can ask my cross country coach from high school: I finished every race (always last, always walking).

I realize now that I should have appreciated how easy it was to run at sixteen. Running at thirty is…different. Things hurt that I didn’t know could hurt. It takes a little longer to get warmed up and even longer to recover, which was something I should have been prepared for. I’m not as spry as I once was. (Was I ever?)

But that’s not the point. The point is I wanted to do something that would be fulfilling and mean a little something to me. It’s just a bonus that I get to do it along side (via Facebook) some wonderful ladies who are also training and motivating me. Basically, those silly little updates I post all the time? That’s my lifeline. I need the motivation. I thrive on it. It’s the only thing stopping me from waking up and watching seventeen hours of NCIS instead of running.

Don’t worry, I catch up on NCIS every other hour of the day. (What? It’s summer and I’m old.)

I guess the point is that I want to do a lot of things, so this blog will probably be completely bi-polar and cover a range of different things that I do.

I want to read books that are so good I never want to read another book ever again.

I want to be a better teacher and show each and every child that they are loved no matter what.

I want complete a 5K. (I think I can, I think I can…)

I want to be a better follower of Christ and shine His light wherever it’s needed.  

I want to be a better: sister, daughter, friend.

I want to fill in the blank.