Four days left until I am officially two years from 30.
When I was in high school, I imagined by the time I was 25 that I would be married with children. However, this is the same high schooler who, as a child, wanted to be a Kmart cashier (not like there is anything wrong with that). So it's official. The course of my future has been distorted since childhood. Awesome.
Looking back on the last ten years of my life, I think I would have done almost everything differently. First off, I would have actually done well on my SATs. Whatever it took. Paying someone off. Cheating. Whatever. I would have applied to colleges that were anywhere but here: New York, California, Florida. I would have actually done well in college instead of average. I would have sought out my professor's wisdom and immersed myself in every internship I could get my hands on for the experience. I would have fought through my laziness and maintained writing as the center of my career while simultaneously honing my photography skills. I would have given people a lot more chances. I would have taken more risks. I would have been a better caretaker of my belongings. I would have taken advantage of all my great opportunities. I would have been a lot more humble, kind, open.
I know I can't escape the stigma attached to 30. I don't want to feed into it but I'm afraid I can't help ignoring the weight of such great expectations. I would love to believe I could take on grad school or return to the journalism field or master some great accomplishment that would make entering into my thirties respectable in everyone's eyes. But maybe in two more years, things will still kind of be the same. And I think I have to prepare myself for the realization that maybe that's okay. Just like Keane sings, "everybody's changing and I don't feel the same."