So, as the title suggests, I did some pretty normal things. I partied and purchased. I don't do as much of one as I do of the other, and unfortunately I guess... the things I do purchase aren't exactly as sexy or as fun/wild as they could be either.
Most will laugh when I say this: it's par for the course; I'm 31 not 21.
That's supposed to mean something. (#Kanyeshrug)
Back to the party I went to...today actually... I had a side conversation with someone who jokingly showcased that she was 24, but it was very much in a "go tell THAT to your 31" kind of way. I know it was meant to be cute, and it was, though I just didn't get it completely. I had liked my 24-days too. 31 is aiight, right?
I mean, at 24, I like her was finishing my first masters. I could probably eat a few more hamburgers and get away with a bit less sleep than I could manage at this point in the game (FU 31)... but I was missing something. Some longing (that I simply don't have) for me to be there again.
I think that there is a time for things... I'm not certain there is always a place (I mean, outside of the whole pee pee belongs in the bathroom kind of thing) but time is an important anchor, for me at least. And 31 is good to me right now.
My mom was 24 when she and my father got married and had me. I'm certain it wasn't easy. It was when my parents were in this whole "wilderness phase"... which involved a lot of greenery: they lived in the Salem Willos...a lot more greenery.... they were plant based people (diet)... and a whole lot more greenery... its rumored weed (and then some) was involved, with less of the bill-paying kind of greens, and kids, baby kids, like milk, not weed (which costs cash not crop). So, these were hungry years,quite a few of them. Theirs, my parents, was a hard 24. It just was.
And so sometimes, my 31 is anxious. Sometimes it's (very) fed up. Sometimes it just wants my family to eat with ease and organically. Sometimes it just wants to go out and do what the hell it/I want to do without all the damn snarkiness. The semi-bold-anti-cuteness. The ill-informed and ill-timed stuff too.
Just yesterday, my 31 went grocery shopping online. Chose spicy hummus and tabouleh for a dad (who fibs about his age) but who deserves to shave a few years off, just as he deserves a rich chickpea dip. My 31 ordered my mom diabetic friendly foods that (hopefully) won't go to waste. My (ancient-ass) 31 called twice, perhaps thrice to ensure they let the delivery guy in. Swallowed a sharp shard of pride when Mummi thinks the food just showed up, dropped down from the Divine and into the fridge... when in fact the source of that divinity was due to the parting in my e-checking. And so, sometimes my 31 goes a bit unthanked.
But it's my 31 that lets me do what I can do, and care in the way that I can, and caretake as I do. Even if pissily, grumpily, and humbly so.
So, I appreciate that.
And this is just where I'm at.
So where you at 32?
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