Turning 30

When I turned thirty years old, I was in college.  I was roughly ten years older than most of my classmates.  I was a Theatre Major.  I was also a Welfare Mother.  Non-Traditional Age Student was another title.  Mom was my favorite title.

"I'm turning 30," popped out of my mouth in multiple locations for months.  I might be between classes.  I might be washing dishes.  I might be working in the set shop.  I might be driving somewhere.  I might be grocery shopping.  I remember smiling after I said it.  I remember thinking that I wouldn't freak out about it.  I thought I was pretty successful until almost a year later when I started talking about my 31st Birthday.

"Are you going to freak out about this one like you did about your thirtieth?" asked Jen. 

"Freak out?" I responded, "I didn't freak out.  I purposefully decided not to freak out.  I was happy to be turning thirty."

"Well, it sounded like freaking out to me," replied Jen.

"I'm sorry you took it that way.  You're wrong.  I'm going to be thirty-one!" I said and flashed her a goofy grin and boogied my "My Birthday is in Like What, How Long, Oh, I Don't Care" dance down the set shop aisle between the 8' x 16' work table and the Chop Saw Work Counter. 

Barat College had a beautiful Set Shop.  The smell alone took me away; sometimes to a happy place and sometimes to a sad place.  The space was so beautifully functional.  The arc of the backstage brick wall was gorgeous.  There were always enough saw horses.  Paint patterns speckled and outlined previous productions.  I really learned a lot there.  I grew up there.

I was a troubling student for both my classmates and professors.  I was in the middle.  I seemed to be about halfway to my professors and halfway to my classmates.  This meant that I heard things from my professors and my classmates that were confusing, disturbing, and overwhelming.  I did my best to just be me, and this created more confusion which led to frustrated comments.  I've always exasperated people. 

My closest Barat friends ranged from somewhere around my age to ten years younger than me. 

They were all women.
 
Four were single mothers. 
Two were not.
 
Three were Welfare Mothers.
 
One was Mormon. 
One was Baptist. 
One was Catholic. 
One was Greek Orthodox. 
One was Earthy New Age. 
One was Yuppie North Shore. 

Two didn't drink. 
Three smoked pot. 

One had twins. 
Two had two daughters. 
One had one daughter. 

One had a boyfriend.
One acquired a fiance.
Three dated.
 
One had a bad experience with my brother. 
One wanted to have a bad experience with my brother. 

One studied Communications and didn't want to work. 
One studied Education and seemed OK with it. 
One studied Photography and got married while still in school. 
One studied Dance and could fall asleep sitting straight up while talking. 
Two studied Technical Theatre and ran the set shop.

Three were in a single mother's support group. 
Two were in an unofficial performing arts support group. 
One was introduced to my parents.  

Three had only one living parent. 
One had a stepdad.  
Two had parents who were still married. 

Two were the youngest of eleven. 

Six lusted after sleep.
Six worked to exhaustion.
Six shared their dreams.
Six got mad.
Six laughed so hard they cried, and cried so hard they laughed.


I remember thinking I was living my dream; and that, my dream contained a good amount of Hell.  In retrospect, I could've done a lot better.  There are a whole line of "buts" screaming to be written, but the truth is that I could've done better. 

I'm not going to debate the philosophical theories of what I learned, nor how it shaped me as a person.  Certainly, I understand that it was a fantastic learning experience.  The simple truth is that my experience was pretty balanced as far as ups and downs.  I had some great ups.  I had some great downs.  I did many good deeds.  I screwed up colossally.  I got good grades and bad grades.  My confidence grew and plummeted.  My talents were acknowledged.  My emotional state was ridiculed.  I was held in awe and disgust.  I revelled in me.  I remained overly-sensitive and learned to cope with it a bit better.  I could've done better.  My friends and family can attest to this.

So, it's my thirtieth post.  It's my 30th Post!  :D ... and I'll be fifty-one in "... Like What, How Long, Oh, I Don't Care."  SIX MONTHS!  La, la, la, la, la.

Tomorrow's post will be dedicated to one of my oldest and dearest friends, Carolyn.  It is her birthday, and I love her.

Happy Mother's Day to my many mom friends and family.  Can you guess who my Mother's Day post will be about?  :D 

FORWARD!