Not my issue

Freakin' introspection. I can't stop thinking about my own issues lately, and then thinking I should blog about them. Unnecessary, really.

So, here's something introspective from someone else, that sums up my feelings nicely. This is excerpted from City Wendy in the Windy City, and you can read the whole post here. I'm not 30 yet, but this mostly captures how I feel about getting old(er).

"It happened really quickly, that's what I'm saying. And I never really gave life permission to do this, to just keep happening around me while I tried to figure shit out. All I know is my 20's went by and I tried some different relationships, and toyed with different careers, and never really thought too much about the future and then all of a sudden, it's like I woke up and ten years had passed and suddenly it wasn't so easy to stay thin anymore and it seemed like maybe I ought to start thinking about having a baby in the next 5 years or something because pretty soon by eggs are gonna dry up and I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME. I thought I was going to be special!

Maybe aging is the great humanizer. Maybe it's what brings us closer together: the collective realization that we're moving further and further away from our youthful dreams, and well, this? This is what life is. It's waking up at 5:30 to go to a job you like just 'ok,' and it's Lean Cuisines for lunch and stealing a few minutes here and there in your afternoon to email friends and check blogs and play Sudoku. And it's paying for a chocolate brownie with three miles on the treadmill, and it's new years resolutions to eat less and save more and learn to balance your checkbook. It's looking up old boyfriends on Myspace and finding college roommates and posting pictures that make you look hotter than you feel most days of the week, and it's looking in the mirror and seeing someone older than you remember before, and it's so, so much ordinary.

Last night I went out to dinner with some friends and there was a 20 minute wait at the sushi place, so we went across the street and I showed them Cafe Bong for the first time and we had a couple beers and sang some songs and somehow ended up at an Ethiopian diner by the end of the night where we polished a couple bottles of wine and made birthday wishes to the one turning 34. And later on, when I pulled up to my apartment in a cab and I paid the driver my fare and I walked up my stairs and unlocked my door and turned on the lights and took off my boots and my scarf and my gloves and my coat and I drank some water and brushed my teeth and washed my face and took out my contacts, there was a moment--when I got into bed and I closed me eyes, there was a moment when I thought "Is this it?"

All I'm saying is Saturday nights use to hold the promise of so much more than Sunday mornings, that's all."