The age of aquarius OR For she's a jolly good fellow Pt 2

I'm turning 30 this week, which simply means I've been alive for some abstract number of rotations around the sun, but culturally means I'm a legit grown-up. I'm no longer young enough to qualify for the cheap, youth tickets to the Canadian Opera Company but I'm not old enough to read their acronym without grinning. I'm in maturity limbo.

I had a potluck Saturday night to celebrate, and I kinda had a few words to say. Throughout the night when friends would ask how I felt about turning 30, I just smiled, shrugged and changed the subject because I didn't want to use up my nuggets of wisdom before it was time for my few words. I imagined I'd say them after everyone sang Happy Birthday while I blew out the candles on my Baskin Robbins ice-cream cake. Everyone would cheer and then I'd chime my fork against my champagne glass to hush them before humbly starting my speech. In my mind, there may have been a podium too. But in real life there was no ice-cream cake, thankfully, because nobody really needs ice-cream cake when your friends make you double-Bourbon cupcakes and apple pie and lobster dip and etc. Besides, I don't have a podium (how embarrassing), or a champagne glass for that matter. It was the loveliest night and so good to have so many of my favourite people in Toronto all together at once. But I didn't end up sharing my thoughts on the whole thing.
So.

All I know for sure about turning 30 is that I'll no longer be in my 20s. And my twenties were quite the decade for me. 

I broke Xstraight edgeX after an eight year run.

I "lost my virginity", at least in the oppressively heteronormative, cis-centric sense, at the tender age of 23.

I finally made the transition from pads to tampons, and I only did it two summers ago in the bathroom of Ronnie's Local before almost immediately passing out and fearing I had Toxic Shock Syndrome. (I didn't. I ate a burrito and felt better.)

And sure, some people might be a little freaked out at the idea of turning 30 and, say, not knowing how to drive.

Or turning 30 and not having a house.

Or a baby.

Or a real job.

Or any real career prospects to speak of whatsoever....

...or having no idea who's going to look after them when they're old and decrepit...

...

Pfft, but not me.

I'm just happy I made it out of my 20s without incurring any crippling debt, or catching any sexually transmitted diseases and in fact, really only having 3-4 consensually ambiguous sexual encounters tops and without having to get my wisdom teeth removed.

Plus, I learned a lot in my twenties. For example, that friendships get better with age.
 And yes, a good man is hard to find but they do exist.
That life is short, so say what you mean and mean what you say. 
And in the words of my old college roommate, Joanne, that nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission. 
And in the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, to always pee after sex. 
Sometimes I get those two mixed up.

But really, I don't feel anything about turning 30 other than it sounds weird. Like, "Hi, my name's Amanda, I'm thirty" sounds crazy to me. But it's a'ight, it's cool. And not just because I still get carded at the LCBO or still dress like I'm 21 or still pick the marshmallows out of my Lucky Charms or any cutesy nonsense that's meant to signify I'm still good ol', young-at-heart me inside. Barf. It's cool to be a grown-ass woman because experiences. Who would you rather have dinner with, an old broad who's lived through wars and revolutions, and probably has a few neat scars, or at least some good records you can steal, -or some dumb baby who just sits there with apple sauce on its face and hasn't done anything cool and only has a six word lexicon? I rest my case.

Anyway, they say "you're only as old as you feel", in which case I am slightly hungover years old. Or there's also "you're only as old as who you feel", in  which case I am still only 27-ish years old, I think. Whatever. Hey, in Korea, you're considered aged 1 from birth, meaning I'm already 31. Now, 31...that will be an appropriate birthday for a Baskin Robbins ice-cream cake, eh? Eh?

That's right, I just tied this post up in a fucking bow.