Understandably, she is upset because society has led her to believe that turning thirty is a bad thing. I beg to differ.
As she was lamenting hitting this milestone, I assured her that being a thirtysomething is not a bad thing.
Sure, she might be too young to recognize the cast of the classic TV show depicted above, but one is always the right age for some sage advice from a Modern Philosopher.
I told her that your twenties are for having fun and being stupid, but life really begins at thirty. That’s when you follow your dreams and discover who you really are.
She replied with a smiley face with hearts for eyes emoji, which I think means she either loved my words of wisdom, of she was at the eye doctor.
Either way, though, I think my words hit home.
Of course, this entire conversation got the deep thoughts whipping around inside my head, as I thought back, all those years ago, to when I was in my twenties.
No, this is not a post on Ancient History. Keep the wise cracks to yourself!
I spent my twenties being a hardworking, middle aged grump. I spent the entire decade in one relationship, with someone who would not only ruin that decade, but also screw up a good portion of the next.
Instead of being all wild and crazy and trying to make it as a screenwriter, I kept moving from solid, well paying job to solid, well paying job because my significant other kept bouncing from college to college as she changed majors quicker than Trump changes the members of his administration.
Sure, I moved to Los Angeles when I was 27, supposedly to pursue a career in Hollywood. But as soon as we got there, my then wife took off on a cross country bike tour, so someone had to get a job to pay the bills.
And it all just went downhill towards divorce from there.
Luckily, I did eventually get back on my feet in my thirties, and my life made a turn for the better. It took a while to find my footing after my divorce, but I did discover myself, and set off in pursuit of my dreams.
My thirties were rough, but considering how I completely wasted my twenties, I entered my forties in very good shape. Met the love of my life, found some happiness, felt more like a writer than I ever have, and I stopped worrying about the past.
As I told her, I’m pretty smart, so she really should listen to me.
But even if she completely ignores what I had to say, she is intelligent enough to figure out life on her own.
After all, she did make it to thirty in one piece, and that’s a major accomplishment!
What advice do you wish someone had given to you when you were younger?