(Almost) My 32nd Year

When I was younger, I thought that my 30's would be full of responsibility, money, kids, vacations, and a distinct level of maturity becoming of a woman that age.

False.  On all counts.

I am (almost) 32, and sure as shit, it's not at all what I expected. For better or worse, this is what my 30's have really been full of:  Career changes, cross-country moves, over-priced apartments, living paycheck-to-paycheck, entry-level wages (with a masters degree, mind you), infertility, stay-cations, and the maturity level of a pre-pubescent boy.

Some may judge from their ivory tower about the way I've lived my life, the choices I've made, or the ones I refuse to make. The one great thing about being in my 30's is that I no longer care. I spent too much of my 20's not liking myself and giving a damn what other people thought. We all want to be liked, we all want to impress, we all want the life that we've aspired to.  A few things I have learned though is that I want to be liked by people that matter. I want to impress people that count, and that over time, my aspirations have changed.

I am professional at work, but still laugh at fart jokes.
I can mingle with execs by day and still wear ratty sweats by night.
I can write amazing business proposals while also maintaing a list of clever names for the vagina. (Ham wallet, anyone?)

I don't really know what this blog will be about. I truthfully think that my life is currently boring as shit, but perhaps this is the push to be a bit more daring in my 32nd year. Try new things, allow myself to be uncomfortable, or scared even. Maybe go a year with very few regrets. I can't promise that this will be exciting, or even interesting, but it will be real.

Peace out.