Countdown to Thirty!

I'm not exactly sure how it happened, how it could have possibly come to this, but I'm turning thirty this week and I'm sure as hell not excited about it. For the past 11 months and 27 days it's been looming in the foggy background of my reluctant consciousness, and whenever it threatened to take a clearer form, I'd just shrug it off and declare that "I will cling on to 29 for four or five years at least and everybody can just stuff it thaaaaanks."

However, now that it is actually upon me, I decided that I'm going to be rational about it, and I will accept the fact that yes I do have 3 white hairs growing at my temple, and that I also have a couple of laugh lines that I worked very hard for. To help me in this endeavour I have tried to carry out a quick run through of the last decade which will allow me to discover whether:

a. the twenties sucked ... in that case, bring on the thirties! or
b. the twenties were awesome ... in which case that is a result of me being awesome, which is something that can only increase with age...so again bring on the thirties!

Either way, I'm coming out as a winner out of this post, and maybe, JUST MAYBE, I'll stop hyperventilating at the thought of what will happen in four day's time.

So ... let the countdown begin!!

Age 20

The twenties begin. Lost my mum. Passed my third year law final exams (no idea how - must have been the nutella I stuffed myself with). Established myself as a survivor.

Age 21

Got my first degree, celebrated and cried like there was no tomorrow. Travelled to Barcelona, and then to Vienna, and then to Cairo, and then to Barcelona again ... twice. Slept in a military camp during my third visit. Woke up to the sound of Bon Dia every morning. Discovered Spanish hunkiness. Failed Succession Law (of course I friggin did), a circumstance that set all other events in motion and changed my life. Passed my notarial law finals.

Age 22

Packed my bags and left the country for a year. Discovered that there is life beyond the cliffs, and that a train can lead you to everywhere you want when you are not stuck on an island. Learnt to listen, discover, tolerate. Laughed, cried, cared, grew. Got my second degree. Not as exciting as the first time.

Age 23

Came back to Malta and almost suffocated. Too small, too closed, too trivial. Went back to the law course and hated every minute of it. Tried to find a way to leave the island again. Failed. This year sucked.

Age 24

Started working on my thesis and got myself my first full time job. Did not actually mind writing my thesis, even though I have no idea now what the hell I was trying to prove (or disprove). Probably my tutor didn't either. Passed my exams. Was a trainer in an Anti Tobacco European Youth conference. Smoked more than I should have (at the time, I wasn't made of the same kind of awesome). Fell in love. Got my heart broken for reasons that made sense much later.

Age 25

Got my final degree. Couldn't have been less bothered. Uneventful year. Fell in love again. Got my heart broken again.

Age 26

Got the job I wanted and was deliriously happy about it for the following three years. Broke someone's heart (what the hell? It had to happen to sometime!) and confirmed that dumping is so much easier than being dumped. No wonder so many people did it to me. Ended a 15+ year friendship. No regrets, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do!

Age 27

Have absolutely no idea what happened this year. Must have been pretty boring. Yeah ... guess what? I fell in love! And guess what ... wait for it, I got my heart broken! (I think I need my own TV show called "How I still have to meet your father"). Became a Home Owner and sold my soul HSBC for the next 30 years. Started a very special journey which changed my life ...

Age 28

Amicably parted ways with the church I was baptised in after being called "a wolf in lamb's clothing" for actually caring and accepting the fact that life is not a rainbow of christian happiness. Catholic-guilt free life is liberating. Should have thought about it sooner. Went to Ghana to do voluntary work. Somehow survived it. I truly rock.

Age 29

The final year. I spent most of it being disillusioned, demotivated, gratuitiously nasty and bit more heads off than I would like to admit. I also discovered my alter-ego Gracie, who is not much of an alter ego really since everyone knows who I am (joys of living on The Island).

Incredibly enough, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, rich land-owner from Derbyshire was, after more than 10 years, ousted from the top spot of Most Perfect Fictional Character EVER, by one Mr Peeta Mellark, baker from Disrict 12, Panem. The living Jaw that played his part in the movie version had nothing to do with it. Really. Seriously. Mmmmmm... that jaw. This damn baker set an unreachable bar of male perfection that no Real Guy can live up to. Hate him. But love him more.

Received an entirely unexpected surprise that is making my 29th year end on a totally positive note with a challenge which I'm very willing to take. And to top all the craziness, I ended my last weekend of my twenties at a Foam Party of the kind that I was introduced as "this is "Gracie" and she's a heterosexual!" and where the ratio of straight people to gay was like 1:10000. But I'm awesome really ... and managed to have an amazing time even though surrounded by gorgeous men who had absolutely no interest in what I had to offer, completely drenched to the bone by foam and with a mild onset of pneumonia.

My plans for the coming decade are vague, but somehow they will also include the conception of a MiniMe who will own her own pink laptop and will blog about her "many varied adventures at play school" and a visit to a coffee shot in Brooklyn with a laptop as I write my novel. Which by the way, will probably include a faghag at a foam party.

All I know however is that the twenties are ending on a high ... and I want to ride that wave into the next decade.

I'm going to be 30 dammnit, and I'm going to bloody well enjoy it :).

Love

Middle Aged Gracie :) xxx