I was cleaning my apartment tonight attempting to purge myself of forgotten books stashed away on high shelves and old picture frames and photos of friends I'd forgotten I ever had, when a letter I'd written to myself fell out of one:

When I think of the turn of the century I think of Henry James; I think of Theodore Dreiser. I think of books I read because I had to and not because I wanted to and in some ways that's how I've led my life.

In a word - blech. I can only assume based on the rest of the cringeworthy penmanship and prose that I was drunk. God, I hope so because the thought that I could be that lame and so, well, retarded without any sort of chemical enhancement scares me a little (and, no, I'm not chemically enhanced right now).

I've been thinking quite a bit about age as of late and that's rare for me. All around me people my age are complaining about getting old. And maybe I don't understand because I've not yet shared many of their milestones. I'm not married, I don't have children. In looking at what I've wanted from my life, I've realized that while I had no specific goals the one thing I did want was to be independent, to know that I could make it on my own and now that I know that, I want something more.

A good friend pointed out to me recently that you can't think about aging as it's something we can't really prevent. And while it's a seemingly obvious statement, it's one I'd not given much much credence. Until now. I turn thirty next year and most days I look forward to it. I spent a large part of my 20s living the way I thought I was supposed to live, I spent a lot of it trying to make people happy and not taking chances. I'm looking forward to leaving them behind; I'm ready to start living for me and not some version of who I think me [sic] should be.