As prophesied, yesterday, was my 30th birthday. I haven't altogether forgotten the whimsy of youth, but I can safely say that I feel the weight of adulthood as the shadows of responsibility and sober maturity loom overshoudler and multiply in viscosity and darkness by variables directly linked to my chronological age. It goes without saying that turning thirty was a lot different that turning twenty, but turning thirty was also surprisingly different from turning twenty-nine. When I turned twenty-nine, I still had my twenties and all the irreverence that comes along with them to hold on to. It was easy to feel good about myself and what I had accomplished by looking comparatively at my life at twenty-nine versus the know-nothing I was at a youthfully eager twenty. But now at thirty, I face a ten year blank slate into the future. Without the turbulence of my twenties to measure myself up to I think my future accomplishments may not feel as rewarding, because in the future, I won't be comparing myself to the reckless twenty year old... I'll have to compete with the man I am today... and the man I am today is tough competition. My forty year old self better come correct. I hope there are jetpacks by then.
List of notable people who died when they were 30 years old.
List of notable people who died when they were 30 years old.
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