Welcome To My Second Dollhouse

At some point this year I will turn 30. This fact doesn't upset me at all. In fact, I'm kind of looking forward to it. Since I was a teenager I've always thought I'd look, feel and be at my best in my thirties. I suppose there is something to be said for mind over matter, but I can also attest that I didn't make my twenties painful by purposely being over-stimulated, under-sexed, wet-noodillish and perpetually exhausted. I used to think it was a second coming of age until I realized mixing pop culture and psychology was just a trendy way to justify my behavior. Well, that and I now know I haven't quite finished growing up yet, nor will I in the foreseeable future.

Every couple of days I find myself wondering about my place with an almost overwhelming awe. What am I doing? Do I really have this job? These friends? This life? Am I supposed to be doing something else? How did I get here?

I received an Alumni magazine from my high school the other day and read about this kid I once knew. For the past couple of years he's been working in Africa, helping people with HIV. For the past couple of years I've been working in the entertainment industry bitching about a boss who's been holding me down. Um...inadequate is the only word that comes to mind when comparing my place with his in the larger scheme of things. I know it's futile to do such a thing, because no matter how good you are there's always someone better as well as someone worse, but in the space around my life that's what happens. I compare, feel bad for a while, and then it passes. It passes because I've accepted the fact that I could never handle going to Africa and helping people with HIV. That's not to say that something profound couldn't happen to me and change that, but at the moment it's one of my truths.

I think my career choice (and therefore my place?) is one of the very few things I've been able to reconcile with the direction of my life, or at least my desire to be a contributing member of society. I spent a lot of time worrying about who I was helping and if my existence was worth anything if I wasn't. I even went so far as to quit the industry cold to figure out if I was doing the right thing. Or at least, the right thing for me which eventually I realized was the point I was missing. Right for me is an entirely different ball game than the right thing. Because honestly, what's the right thing? Too many (mostly religious) people confuse the right thing with a good/kind thing. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, (sorry) it's just not everyone can be a doctor. At least, I can't. And I'm ok with that.

I'll always wonder about my actual, grain of sand place in the world, because I still often feel like the proverbial (is that the right word?) square peg, but that's what makes it worth living isn't it? Everyone (sans the big bores) loves a mystery. What could be coming next?

For me it's the big three oh. Does it bother me that I'm still a virgin? Well...yes, but only because it means I haven't connected with anyone on a level where I can give myself over completely. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will, because even in my friendships there are things I hold back, but I still hope. Maybe this year is the year. I've been so lucky to explore all that I have in my life so far, it's time to face the boys...um, the men. A man.