My birthday is coming up. And Soon.
And while I should feel like this:
Sure, sometimes I joke that I’m getting old as dirt, my hip hurts, or that I will end up in my future great-grandkids History book but my “closer to thirty” panic isn’t the typical “closer to thirty panic”.
I don’t freak out about “The Plan”.
What is “The Plan” exactly?
When I tell most people I’m in my later 20s, the immediate question I’m usually asked is do I have kids.
The older I get and the more of my birthdays that roll in the more my family starts nudging me in my uterus and dropping words like “ticking clock”, “marriage”, and “babies”. My pops constantly likes to remind me that his grandmother was 13 when she jumped the broom, started her family and I’m now more than a decade behind.
That may have worked fine and dandy back in 1492 but now we are in a new era. A broomless era. And I clearly seemed to have slept in on the meeting that turning 27 meant I needed to be barefoot, pregnant and leaping over people’s cleaning supplies.
I’m not fit to be anyone’s mother right now. I’m still trying to figure out if I even like kids for longer than 30 minutes. I barely need a pet. I cherish the newfound freedom that I have and my patience is just entirely too short.
Overall I’m numb to the idea of dating and if I get freaked over anything it’s the fact the people like Lady Gaga and Lena Dunham are the same age as me and are living my dream careers. But instead of being bitter I’m pushed to get better therefore at the end of the day work is my top priority. Which brings me to the next part of “The Plan”.
We’re all expected to go to college, get a degree, nail a decent job and work there–forever. Well half of forever. Eventually you get a retirement, probably a cake and a check, blah, blah, blah. Then you’re off to your white picket fenced home that you built with your spouse, 3.5 kids and 2 dogs to have endless movie nights and remodeling projects.
Like most average people in their twenties, your primary job is just a stepping stone and a growing process as you continue to climb the ladder to your dreams.
I think about working a general 9a to 5p for the rest of my life and I want to rip out all of my hair and throw my bald ass into traffic.
And speaking of college and degrees, I’m not really about that life either. Sure, a degree is an established thing to have, it helps open some doors a lot faster, it looks good on your resume and brings you more money. To be perfectly honest I hate school, I have a selective mind and I’ve worked a full time job since the age of 17. Trying to juggle both at the same time eventually became exhausting and not worth the struggle for what I can eventually accomplish without a degree as a writer/creator.
One day I will eventually get a degree, mostly just for my own personal achievement. Working for almost a decade I’ve learned that hard work stands out more than just a piece of paper, and it’s not always what you know but who you know. And learning and growing can be taught outside of the classroom–read books, study, network, get a mentor and focus on what you makes you passionate. I’ve unfortunately had the pleasure of meeting people who felt the need to brag that they have a degree and still have no fucking common sense or know their way around a computer.
The only plan I strive to follow is the one that leads to my dreams. Hard work. Creativity galore. Crazy times with my family and friends to share with my readers
and maybe when I’m like 40, my kids. Living in and out of a plane. Setting fashion trends. Not living in the same city forever. Meeting my idols. Publishing novels. Creating shows and Horror films.