I have turned 30. The newness of life slowly wearing away and leaving smears of lethargy, achy bones, repetition, and a general apathetic disposition in its place. At least more so than in my past. I’ve always been a bubbly, excited about nothing, obnoxious laugher who can charm the pants off most any man (or woman–yes that happened, BUT a story for another day) and live easy without plan or worry or fear for tomorrow. When I get gifts for birthdays or Christmas, I get so excited I cry. Again, I’m a feeler. So this turn of events into disinterested, unenthused funk makes me confused. This isn’t me. How did I get here?
(No one explains the absurdity of life better than the one and only David Byrne, man) Continue reading “Year 30: We Can Do This”