I wont make any excuses for the looooooong hiatus I took from my blogging. I will simply say to you, that until last week, I had miscalculated my age.
Mathematics was never my strong point. But this is one count I shouldn't have messed up. Now I realise that being born in 1981, I complete 29 years of living life & step into thirty.
Thirty. Terrible, traumatic, tragic, terrifying, troublesome. Thirty.
Like many before me, I believed that I am above the cliche. And that I wouldnt fear the turn of the decade.
Turns out, I AM a cliche.
My head is automatically tallying up a lot of facts. And drawing conclusions. Some I shall share here.
Money in my bank: None whatsoever. Apart from the compulsory tax savings & some investments made by wise parents & spouse, this ultra important aspect of life is not applicable. I am simply daft about money matters.
Career: Exists. Potentially bright. But in frozen mode when it comes to satisfaction. Basically going to work is like going to school a day after the summer vacation. Only each day, the passion is diminishing.
Men in my life: Some have been utter, unforgettable disasters. In fact, each time a young 20 something girl cries or sniffles about a troublesome break up, I compare to some of my past experiences, and think, well I have done worse. So you can imagine. Each one though, taught me the beauty of detachment.
But my husband is better than the best. He lives with me after all, that can't be easy all the time.
Birthday plans: I have never seen the point in feeding others, and pampering others (without a useful gift guaranteed) on my birthday ever. And letting my hair down on my 30th birthday with 'others' wont happen. If at all, I will lock myself and my husband at home, watch some favourite films and drink myself to oblivion.
Ambitions: I dont know what the word means anymore.
Goals: I have one that I can share. I want to make enough money so that I can see the world on my terms.
Which means, journalism wont get me there.
Battle of the Bulge: Continues unabated. I cant pretend that I dont believe in the weight cliche. Getting the curves back with more shape would be beautiful. And not eating carbs, challenging.
Realisation: Many. First of all, there IS no ultimate happiness (except perhaps, those 2 hours when you watch a film with your phone on silent mode at home & with your favourite brew)
Shopping doesnt buy me happiness
I have to stop lying to myself and learn to take better care of my health.
My anger is toxic, I need to learn to limit it. And I know thats easier said than done.
I dont like hiking, rapelling, white water rafting, camping etc. I cant pretend to do them just to look cool. My idea of leisure is serviced pleasure with no effort on my part. Massages on an hill side resort would serve the purpose. So would globe trotting. I dont like to work for pleasure, even something as minor as blowing soap bubbles annoys me. Let others do it, I will click photos.
I need to learn to love the woman in the mirror again.
I also need to accept that I hate weddings, worship gatherings etc. I only like the food & enjoy taking photos of these things.
I need to let go. Of what exactly? Perhaps I will get to know at forty.
So is it all gloom and doom? As the countdown begins, so far, it is. But my friends who have crossed the thirtieth year say that after this year, I will become very comfortable with who I am.
So if that were true, I will not end up writng my book, or books, and I will not end up taking control of my life.
I think turning thirty has woken me up from my deep slumber. I always knew when I started working that at this stage in future, I shall make a paradigm shift. Surprisingly, without any conscious effort, I have become restless in my narrow, precarious comfort zone.
I hope to do something positively radical and slowly start taking control of my long term future. The merriment of the twenties firmly behind, its time for me to grow up. I also promise to genuinely value my friends & my family, as the recklessness has subsided to show me their value. Besides, perhaps now it indeed is time to stop making comparisons with anyone who has an advantage over me. After all, a lot of life as it is, is a consequence of our own doing.
Hopefully, I shall rise beyond the cliche. Or become a better one.
Mathematics was never my strong point. But this is one count I shouldn't have messed up. Now I realise that being born in 1981, I complete 29 years of living life & step into thirty.
Thirty. Terrible, traumatic, tragic, terrifying, troublesome. Thirty.
Like many before me, I believed that I am above the cliche. And that I wouldnt fear the turn of the decade.
Turns out, I AM a cliche.
My head is automatically tallying up a lot of facts. And drawing conclusions. Some I shall share here.
Money in my bank: None whatsoever. Apart from the compulsory tax savings & some investments made by wise parents & spouse, this ultra important aspect of life is not applicable. I am simply daft about money matters.
Career: Exists. Potentially bright. But in frozen mode when it comes to satisfaction. Basically going to work is like going to school a day after the summer vacation. Only each day, the passion is diminishing.
Men in my life: Some have been utter, unforgettable disasters. In fact, each time a young 20 something girl cries or sniffles about a troublesome break up, I compare to some of my past experiences, and think, well I have done worse. So you can imagine. Each one though, taught me the beauty of detachment.
But my husband is better than the best. He lives with me after all, that can't be easy all the time.
Birthday plans: I have never seen the point in feeding others, and pampering others (without a useful gift guaranteed) on my birthday ever. And letting my hair down on my 30th birthday with 'others' wont happen. If at all, I will lock myself and my husband at home, watch some favourite films and drink myself to oblivion.
Ambitions: I dont know what the word means anymore.
Goals: I have one that I can share. I want to make enough money so that I can see the world on my terms.
Which means, journalism wont get me there.
Battle of the Bulge: Continues unabated. I cant pretend that I dont believe in the weight cliche. Getting the curves back with more shape would be beautiful. And not eating carbs, challenging.
Realisation: Many. First of all, there IS no ultimate happiness (except perhaps, those 2 hours when you watch a film with your phone on silent mode at home & with your favourite brew)
Shopping doesnt buy me happiness
I have to stop lying to myself and learn to take better care of my health.
My anger is toxic, I need to learn to limit it. And I know thats easier said than done.
I dont like hiking, rapelling, white water rafting, camping etc. I cant pretend to do them just to look cool. My idea of leisure is serviced pleasure with no effort on my part. Massages on an hill side resort would serve the purpose. So would globe trotting. I dont like to work for pleasure, even something as minor as blowing soap bubbles annoys me. Let others do it, I will click photos.
I need to learn to love the woman in the mirror again.
I also need to accept that I hate weddings, worship gatherings etc. I only like the food & enjoy taking photos of these things.
I need to let go. Of what exactly? Perhaps I will get to know at forty.
So is it all gloom and doom? As the countdown begins, so far, it is. But my friends who have crossed the thirtieth year say that after this year, I will become very comfortable with who I am.
So if that were true, I will not end up writng my book, or books, and I will not end up taking control of my life.
I think turning thirty has woken me up from my deep slumber. I always knew when I started working that at this stage in future, I shall make a paradigm shift. Surprisingly, without any conscious effort, I have become restless in my narrow, precarious comfort zone.
I hope to do something positively radical and slowly start taking control of my long term future. The merriment of the twenties firmly behind, its time for me to grow up. I also promise to genuinely value my friends & my family, as the recklessness has subsided to show me their value. Besides, perhaps now it indeed is time to stop making comparisons with anyone who has an advantage over me. After all, a lot of life as it is, is a consequence of our own doing.
Hopefully, I shall rise beyond the cliche. Or become a better one.
Interesting, honest and open. It is unusual to find that especially on blogs. Don't change that about yourself. All the best.
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