Nerdy Birdy, Look Who's Turning Thirty

There is nothing more depressing than reading the New York Times Weddings/Celebrations section close to a month before your thirtieth birthday. The Weddings/Celebrations section is full of presumably the elite in and around the New York area that are getting married--the ones who can either afford to announce their marriages or whose elite parents advertise for the engaged.

Here's an example of one: "Dr. Ezekiel Shields and his wife Myrna are proud to announce the marriage of their daughter Sarah Shields to Brad Goldberg.  Brad and Sarah met while attending law school at Cornell.  Brad was birthed from the womb playing classical piano, and Sarah the same.  After they met, both found they shared an interested in Russian literature at the age of 3."

Okay, so I made that up, but that's how I feel when I read the announcements.  And the pictures always kill me.  The engagement photos of these people make them look so old.  I don't mean wrinkly, but like distinguished.  Though the couples average in age from 25-30, they looks so well put together--like they take their clothes to the cleaner and have facials and professional expensive dye jobs or makeup artists--all while I rinsed my hair this morning, halfway blowdryed it, and sprayed some TreSemme in it because I was in too much of a hurry to do anything else.

I haven't thought much about turning thirty until today.  I used to think about it.  After I re-enrolled in college and found out I would graduate in 2010, I laughed.  I never thought 2010 would come, and I never thought 30 would, either.  I think I had more of a problem with turning 25 because at 25, you're expected to quit fucking off and decide what it is you want to do with your life.  And it is looking at these people in the New York Times and comparing myself to others in my age group that makes me nervous.

Lady Gaga--born in 1986, she just turned 25.  She still gets to fuck off and drink a lot and wear meat suits, but she is easily now a millionaire (billionaire) and shits gold records.  I will never shit gold records, though I will eat plenty of meat and never wear it.

Jessica McClure--better known as"Baby Jessica" born two days before Lady Gaga, just turned 25.  While her claim to fame was falling in a well, and the media attention and multiple surgeries she had to endure were horrendous, she just cashed in on a trust fund set up by "well-wishers" in the eighties which contains $800,000.  She is also married and has two kids.

Tiffany Brissette--better known as V.I.C.I. the robot in A Small Wonder is 36 years old.  She's a nurse.  And she was once a child-actor and a robot.  How can I compare with a robot?

Erin Smith--totally not her real name, but a girl I was in G.A.T.E. (gifted and talented education) with in elementary school.  She got a big set of fake boobs--what's that cost?  $5,000 dollars?  Seems like an accomplishment to me.

Alisa Baxter--her maiden name.  Another girl I went to school with.  She is now a neurosurgeon.  In the tenth grade, do you know what her dream was?  To be a neurosurgeon.  How the hell do people know that at 16?  Did Alisa know her boob would fall out of her dress at the high school prom?  Probably not.  Did she want it to?  Probably not.  Did she assume I would remember it for the rest of my life?  No, but I did.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is, I don't know what I want to be, yet.  I know I am going to graduate school, and I know that is an accomplishment, but it took me a long time to get here.  I did a lot of screwing around in my 20's, and it was a time of tumult (some self-inflicted, most not.)  I just don't feel like I'm an adult yet.  I don't take my clothes to the cleaner; in fact, I don't even buy clothes that have to be taken to a cleaner, especially since my gay friend that did my ironing moved away--no lie.  Most of my friends have kids and spouses and dogs and houses and things to take care of.  I'm lucky that I remember to feed my cat (I remember when he meows at me) and water my plant (I remember when it is sagging down the sides of the planter).

I wonder this:  will thirty make me feel and look like more of an adult? I doubt it.  Will I keep fooling people?  I hope so.  Will I come to love vacuuming?  Never.