I’m turning 30 at the end of the month and unlike many in my situation, I’m looking forward to adding that figurative checkmark to the mythical box next to “survived my 20s.” I’ve not really been much of a fan of my 20s; you’re no longer a kid and you’re not quite an adult throughout most of the decade. Struggling becomes a way of life so much so that if you find yourself comfortable, you think, “What’s going to go wrong?” I’ve always felt that my 30s are going to be a better fit for my personality. I can say with confidence that I finally have my shit together and am happy with where I am and that’s just at 29. Imagine what the next 10 years could look like…
When I was
younger more naive, I associated coming of age with a number. Depending on how old you were determined your level of kid vs. adult. Age nine and below, you are a kid; plain and simple. Then you have this weird purgatory of not really being a kid and definitely not a teen, but as soon as you turn 13, doors just start to open for you. Not literally though–that’s just what my little brain told me. Continue reading
My Business Law professor had a saying:
“There are three things you are guaranteed to have to do in life: live, pay taxes, and die.”
That’s why he spent the first part of his career as a Wills Attorney; giving people the opportunity to disseminate their tangible belongings via a written will (job security and all…). When people die, they become very particular over their things. They want to leave their possessions and fortunes (or lack there of) to those they loved and cared about. Or, you know, not and just have all their crap buried with them (his words, not mine).