A different kind of doom
Jun. 25th, 2007 12:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zcat_abroadI'm turning 30 at the end of the week. For some reason, this number has always bothered me. I guess I thought I'd have my life figured out by then, not still be studying at Uni, with no real idea of where I'll go when I've finished. I thought I would feel different, more responsible and serious. Yet, while thanks to the corrupting influences of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zcatcurious I'm not quite the same person I was at 20, I still don't feel radically different. I still get impulses to climb trees, or turn somersaults (which I could never do, at any point). I still want to spend all day reading, or working on sewing projects. When I was 20, looking ahead to 30, it was an age away (half my life), and I knew I would be older and more grown-up.
Well, I'm not. I wore dress-up to work the other week. I spent Sunday pretending to be Miss Scarlett for a friend's sister's school project. I haven't cleaned the house properly for ages, 'cos we've had noone visiting (though that's something I'm working on today). I'm still ridiculously happy being married tozcatcurious. I'm half-way through a PhD, and having to start again.
Life's a funny thing. On the up side, as I was worrying about turning 30 at the beginning of the year (yes, I know there's no use worrying, but that's what I do), two things happened within the same week: I got asked for ID at the supermarket checkout, buying a bottle of wine (age limit:18); and a friend of my 20-year-old brother asked me how long brother and I had been going out! So I can claim not to look my age.
I think I'm resigned to it now. There is no way to stop from turning 30, and evidence suggests that it won't change me that much. So, when does one grow up?
zcatcurious I'm not quite the same person I was at 20, I still don't feel radically different. I still get impulses to climb trees, or turn somersaults (which I could never do, at any point). I still want to spend all day reading, or working on sewing projects. When I was 20, looking ahead to 30, it was an age away (half my life), and I knew I would be older and more grown-up. Well, I'm not. I wore dress-up to work the other week. I spent Sunday pretending to be Miss Scarlett for a friend's sister's school project. I haven't cleaned the house properly for ages, 'cos we've had noone visiting (though that's something I'm working on today). I'm still ridiculously happy being married to
zcatcurious. I'm half-way through a PhD, and having to start again.Life's a funny thing. On the up side, as I was worrying about turning 30 at the beginning of the year (yes, I know there's no use worrying, but that's what I do), two things happened within the same week: I got asked for ID at the supermarket checkout, buying a bottle of wine (age limit:18); and a friend of my 20-year-old brother asked me how long brother and I had been going out! So I can claim not to look my age.
I think I'm resigned to it now. There is no way to stop from turning 30, and evidence suggests that it won't change me that much. So, when does one grow up?
