May is the month when my next birthday starts edging into view — it’s in September — and I mentally brace myself to turn another year older (apparently it takes me a minimum of four months to do it). A major difference between your twenties and thirties, or so I’m noticing, is that in your twenties everything is still maybe, possible, in the future, what your life will become… In your thirties, that vague sense of possibility starts resolving into tangible shapes of day-to-day life, and even a choice to make no real choice begins to manifest itself into a life choice: what your life will become changing into what your life actually is. I wouldn’t say you start confronting your mortality so much as the mortality of your youth. But once you stare down the end of being-young, and then beyond, you make this delightful realization that, barring ill twists of fate, there is still so much ahead. You’re still young enough so that many things seem possible (when the kids leave the nest I’ll go live in Paris!) but old enough to have accumulated some serious consequences for your actions thus far (wait… I have kids?).
In my twenties, I went after things, eager, hands open, trying to fill my life with as many adventures and opportunities as I could. What I’m starting to realize now is that I can’t do that anymore, at least not in the same way…because my life is full. I feel like I’m still as eager and hungry as I ever was, but you can only fit so much on your plate, even if the plate you somehow lucked into is an oversized and extravagant one. What I need to do now is edit, streamline, focus, make sure that what is already in the now gets done as well as I can do it — and in time.
I enjoy this blog too much to give it up, so that won’t happen. About to seriously revamp the website, though, which I’m looking forward to (this is when an annoyingly perky mental voice chirps up, New book, new website, new me! But that’s not true. We’re just going in for an upgrade. A breast lift, if you will, as opposed to a whole new rack…I live a stone’s throw from Beverly Hills, so please forgive that analogy, which came into my head way too disconcertingly quickly).