I am 30...hear me ROAR?

Time and Tide wait for no man, but time stand still for a woman of thirty.
Robert Frost.

This past week, I turned “The BIG 3-0” (quotations added from multiple friends for added emphasis.”
“This is a significant birthday.”
I heard this over and over, and a few days leading up to the big event, I was placing a lot of pressure on how I wanted to memorialize such a crossing,
It begs the question…
From where am I leaving? And to where am I heading?
Looking back on it, the way I and everyone was acting, it was as if I was graduating from brownies, crossing that fake bridge into the land of tampax, where the main commodity involves transactions of Thin Mints and its crack badges.
Why do we put so much pressure on silly NUMBERS? Think about it...the scale, the jeans size, the shoe label, the grams of fiber, the MPG, the third date, the calorie counts. In the end, numbers are only significant when we give them meaning: healthy, slutty, fat, average.

By the time the morning of, a peace settled over me. I rose with anxiety, not knowing what I should do with myself, when I arrived at the conclusion: Whatever the Hell I felt like. I walked to the best coffee shack (4 blocks conveniently) in my sweats and ordered the most sinful cup of coffee in T-Town’s existence. And I sat, and celebrated, and intentionally decided that I would not force anything that day, and honor myself by listening to what I wanted. The bowing to autopilot shoulds had been temporarily shut down for re-servicing.
And since then, I have been trying very hard to a) figure out what I desire and b) find a way to honor it (which doesn’t mean immediate gratification...just recognition).

I hope I am leaving the roaring 20s behind and entering into the depressed 30s…um, wait a second, that’s not quite what I have in mind. I didn’t want to head further into a recession of confidence, but that’s what happened. A few days following my 30 transformation, I tripped back over that bridge, as if the novelty of a new dye job wore off. Today, really wanting a luxurious meal, I opted out of it for something safer…more balanced and healthy and less licentious. I hate my hesitancy. This self-doubt. I ordered a gussied-up oatmeal instead of the steaks and eggs and regretted my cowardness for the full 40 minutes of the meal. Even my date, who was born in the roaring 20s, didn’t behave with such trepidation.
I was definitely treating my desires as if living in the 30s, the 1930s that is, and such smallness would not do.
So! The 30 year old K walked into the nearby gourmet market and bought herself a bottle of pink champagne (task! #37 will be completed this week) and gourmet pumpkin ravioli. While in the market, she ate a French baguette loaf baked with brie.
Now, if this is 30, it feels good…just recognizing that I can either give or steal meaning to my experiences in the moment
What should I leave behind? What should I walk toward?

Smokers Need Not Apply

See IT. Speak IT. “You gotta know what you want, K.”
What do I want?
So…this can go in a number of directions…what I want for my birthday (one of those indoor gardens) what I want for my home (neighbors to watch Lost with) what I want for breakfast (cereal! Duh!). But in this situation, she meant what I want in a relationship.
When it comes to that direction, well, my clarity gets a little blurred.
I have conflicting feelings about stipulating a list of qualities…And this apparent hesitation flows laughs in contrast with my PhD in list-making and objective defining and a masters of going after goals. Why is that?
I believe that when a woman spouts a list, it quickly alters into a list of qualifications. And when push comes to shove, I can’t accept applications for a position I don’t think any of us are ever truly qualified for (I hold a similar view of the presidency if that tells you something.).
The fear is that such a “envisioning” about a partner isn’t a fear of failing to find “the one” that somehow materializes during a book store hunt and magically matches all my visions. In my bones, I like to plan and control for most things, but when it comes to people, such planning blocks experiencing the totality of a person. I project some vision onto him or her…and then compare to preconceived standards. If I articulate—must be educated---what dilemma might fester when I meet a hardworking wine shop owner with a stable income and a strong work ethic? So the standard becomes more general---from education to “good work ethic” and eventually watered down. Why make a list of qualities as well: caring, generous, flexible, when with the hormones surging my attraction will quickly confirm their presence and rationalize their presence.
Not to mention that the validity of a relationship takes time to manifest itself.
So nope…lists don’t make sense to me.
“But you have to know what you want, k!” See it Believes it and it will come (Shout out to Field of Dreams and The Secret groupies out there).
But I think for me, it’s better to name my rule-breakers. What I don’t want. Features that if demonstrated as a pattern will lead me to bail. Not red flags…but parachutes, or even write offs. I won’t become involved with smokers (I’ll try to get you to quit)

estranged children (I’ll spend time compensating by sending Hallmark cards to your mom myself) the leisureless (I’ll enroll you in community hiking groups) the builders (I’ll drag you around with all my traveling and ambition) and the friendless (I’ll arrange for you to hang out with Y’s husband). See? These features make me want to change you. And that’s a job I happen to be qualified for, but isn’t conducive to good heart health.
I’d like to add those that are insecure, arrogant, competitive, abusive, emotionally or rationally bereft, but realize that I become all those things when standing in certain lighting. And when you are in a relationship where you are truly engaging with another human being, you’ll eventually drive your mate to display all these things to varying extents (if the relationship is healthy, on the less destructive end of the dimension).
What I don’t want is dramatic conflicts, a lack of shared interests, always feeling responsible for investing in emotional capital or to feel smothered.
Now that you know what I don’t want…do you know any available person that you can set me up with on a blind date (it’s on my list people!)…ummm? Ooops. Guess I just proved your point: I’ve got a list after all. A list that is not a list but is actually a list….
That’s amore.