29 Again, for the First Time

I am on the cusp of turning 30 (tomorrow to be exact) and like any milestone birthday this one has me questioning my life and the choices I’ve made thus far. For the most part, all is well, (decent career, my own apartment, etc.) but no matter what I have, or could have achieved in my three decades of life, there are of course, stones unturned, paths not travelled, and #1 New York Times bestselling novels not (yet) written.

Which brings me to this blog. Writing seems like an inevitable part of my future and yet I cannot seem to finish anything I write, making the great American novel that I can feel in my bones somewhat atrophied. This blog is an attempt to revive it. (Peeps in the know, did I get that medical metaphor right?). Short little blurbs and observations in my witty yet profoundly thought-provoking prose under no dead-line, for no money, published by the power of the internet seems like a place to start, or at least one that I can stick to (we’ll see). So, if you are intrigued, read on, if not, who asked you?

Ok, tomorrow I turn 30. What have I done with my life? I am not married, let’s just take care of this little Victorian nugget right off the bat. I always knew that if ever I got me a husband, it wouldn’t be until I was in my 30s anyway. My 20s were for me, to move out of my parents’ home, start my career, have crazy parties all over Manhattan until all hours of the night with no one to answer to but myself. You know, your typical Holly Golightly-minus-the mean-reds lifestyle (although let me just state right now that if George Peppard walked into my life looking like he did in Breakfast At Tiffanys, things would have turned out a lot different, I mean, honestly). Sometimes (or mostly) that swinging NYC lifestyle manifests itself in my watching Jeopardy and my latest Netflix selection in the blissful peace that for some reason can only be found in my apartment because, unfortunately, in my world margaritas are $8 a pop if you’re lucky and there’s no such thing as $50 for the powder room (that practice is itself grounds for an entire blog entry). So thank God we’ve evolved beyond the mentality that 30 + single = old maid. So to sum up: single and ready to mingle (cue modern George...or Paul Newman, I'm not picky).

Next up, career, this I'll keep short. I work in publishing and I've read enough manuscripts by people who've gotten fired for writing about their jobs in their blogs enough to know not to do this--then again, these people are getting their books published sooooo....nah, in this economy it's best to play it safe. I have a job, I'm happy to have a job and hope to continue to have a job. 'Nuff said.

I'm dubbing 2009 The Year of Suck because it well...sucked. The year started and ended with death, in my family, my friends' families, my co-workers' families, celebrities and even informercial pitchmen; the economy continued to tank; it rained for the entire month of June; and just when we thought we had seen the last of Sarah Palin, she writes a bestseller (I mean, if that woman can do it, WTF is stopping me?). Obviously the Gods were not happy in 2009. And so, I say bring on 2010 and turning 30! I'm putting all the negativity, grief, and depression about the abundance of Republicans in my life (Lenny, Jayne,) behind me.

My 20s had some highs and lows, but I'm looking to the 30s with optimism, a new set of goals (Pultizer), maybe a new gig as a columnist for the NYT when Gail Collins and Thomas Friedman are on vacation or something, and of course world peace.

Farewell my youth...