Thirty
Just a thought from 16 May 2003 about .

It's funny. When I turned 26, I was in Amsterdam, far away from everything I knew, too busy to think much beyond tomorrow. Two years ago, when I turned 28, I was unbelievably freaked out. Because 28 was one year closer to 30. When I hit 29, I was so busy, I barely noticed it. And now, today, 30.

The big three-oh. Finally.

And the funny part is, I'm not freaked out. Not much, anyway. Because I think I've figured something out. None of this time matters. Not to who I am.

I used to say that I never grew up, people just started letting me do more stuff. It sounds like a joke, but it's true. The way I feel now, on the inside, is the way I've felt for about twenty years.

The years have added experience. Dulled some senses, expanded others. I've done some things I never thought I would, most of which I don't regret. I've accomplished things. Achieved. And mostly I'm happy.

But who I am hasn't fundamentally changed. I'm still that daydreaming kid I've always been. Still fighting to find my place. Still craving acceptance. Still looking round the corner for what's next.

I have always been that kid, and I think now I always will be. It's a revelation that, like all of them, sounds completely obvious when you write it down. But that kid in me knows what I mean.

Happy birthday, kid.