Living in Frames, by meshing the lyrical moments of life with the captured images of experience. This is a reverie, a journey, the fork in the road, and the never-ending story....

Monday, January 28, 2013

dirty thirty..whatever that means...

I know this much: I will embrace turning thirty, despite what everyone tells me it should be. I guess I'm preparing for anything, which says a lot, because I have never been much of a planner.

I'm a seat-of- the-pants, forgot-the-umbrella, don't-look-back kind of girl. I am every bit impulsive, as I am consistent in certain behaviors. The truth is, the only thing that grounds me are certain dogmas, and this damned moral compass that always seems to point with my heart, rather than my head:

"You're too smart for that. So, why do you do it?"

photo accredited to Wikipedia
---Hey, I don't know, I had a feeling. I couldn't walk away. I'm stubborn. I wanted to find out for myself.

Yes, I'm still a tad bit naive. Yes, I'm still learning as I go. Too quick to forgive, and yet I remember most details--isn't that what it means to be a true masochist?

Shall I grow out of these traits? Probably not. Shall I finally be settled? It's highly unlikely.

When I look ahead, I wish I could see some clear evolution. But every day is open to possibility, and every day presents new obstacles or choices to make.
Why should waking up at thirty be any different?

I find that when I attempt to set into motion the things I want most, the results are almost always unpredictable. So, I've stopped trying to implement reason as a form of control over my life. After all, we don't live in some vacuum, infallible to human error and dependent on what's 'right'--we take risks all the time, and our mortality is fragile.

Maybe I should just stick to the questions that I know I can find answers for, and continue to appreciate the simple joys, rather than trying to translate what it means to be 'happy'. The people who are always so concerned with finding this life-affirming happiness: do they ever really find it? Or is the present moment a glaze-over for them--a long drawn-out wait?

And if thirty means acting my age and taking myself too seriously (something I swore I would never do), then I have to say: keeping with my 29-year-old mentality will suit me just fine.

Perhaps, being unapologetic about one's true nature, is what being Dirty 30 is all about.

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