Today is my 29th birthday and all I want is a steak and a hug from Tom Hardy (pictured above). I know that I’ll certainly get the former today and the latter if I’m lucky in the next 10 years. When I was younger, I thought I always imagined I’d be a world famous mega writer/director, jet-setting from cool country to cooler country with a dangerously attractive man on my arm. Now as I groggily type out this post, I realize that while I’ve not yet obtained the desires my younger self had conjured up, I am satisfied with the direction I’m currently traveling.
My twenties have been a great time of confusion, discovery, and empowerment. I’ve had the best and worst times trying to figure things out. I’ve had some ridiculous adventures, made some poor decisions, and met some of the most fantastic people along the way. When I talk to younger people, a lot of them seem alien to me. I can practically smell the breast milk on their aimless lips. I don’t wish to be their age again, plagued with fear and uncertainty, dependent on other people for direction. I used to think I’d envy their youthful positions but in reality I’m happy to have gotten out of that portion of my life.
Now, I just want basic things; hours of conversations about movies, drinks at a bar, getting my short into a festival, watching my sister graduate from college, laughing with like-minded companions, and hugs. I hope I can retain this eternal optimism for another 29 years. Now that I have a hold on who I am, I can put all my energies into getting the universe to give me the opportunity to get a hug from Mr. Hardy.