Monday, 08 November 2004 | Birthday

I've decided I'm okay with you, thirty. Not that it matters, really; you're here regardless. I'm tired of dreading your arrival and am learning to (sort of) embrace you, and whatever baggage that you're supposed to bring. People who know you have told me what to expect out of you, but of course you treat everyone differently, just like the rest of us treat everyone differently. So, uh, hello. Be nice.

The past week—the past weekend, even—I've experienced just about every emotion I've ever known, all of them condensed and packed into a tight span of time, a sort of multi-vitamin of intense feelings. To name a few: disappointment, camaraderie, love, hate, sadness, dread, excitement, embarrassment, defeat, accomplishment, resignation, hope, and gratefulness. Michael told me that all weekends are like that in your thirties, that it's a secret no one ever tells you. (He never said whether he was serious.)

I'm alive, certainly. And I have good friends who came to my party and brought me things like mix CDs and a superhero unitard. (A hard ending, but not a bad beginning.)

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In addition to updating my age, I've updated the photo project.