It’s official. I am no longer in my twenties, but I am ambivalent about my transition into my thirties. Being thirty means that I am suddenly expected to grow up. For men, growing up usually means settling down, getting married, and having kids. Even though I’m mature and responsible, those concepts still frighten me. (Truth be told, I am frightened enough by having a godson.) That level of responsibility is scary because failure is not an option when lives are at stake. Nonetheless, I am still excited about this time of my life. I certainly look and feel much better than I’ve ever felt. My career outlook is much better than it has ever been. I’m making new friends and trying new things like salsa dancing. My life is full now and I’m fine with it taking 30 years for me to get to this point.
In spite of my ambivalence, a part of me has been looking forward to this day for some time because it would give me an excuse to plan a party. Although I don’t really enjoy social situations, I knew that I would regret not planning anything for my 30th birthday. Initially, the plan was to go the Vegas with some friends so that I could zip line over Fremont Street again and walk around the Strip in suits sort of like Diddy in his Ciroc commercial (except without the vodka since I still don’t drink). Unfortunately, we couldn’t get past scheduling issues and various financial obstacles. (I later found out that the new and improved SlotZilla zip line still has not opened yet. Given that it was the focal point of my birthday trip, I would have been angry.) After sulking for a while, I came up with a Plan B. I would follow the same model that I have followed for the previous two years–dinner followed by karaoke. Sure it had been a semi-disaster every year, but at least it was something I could manage. After all, singing is one of the few things I’m good at. As I should have expected by this point in my life, those plans came to a crashing halt. Snow almost magically popped up on the weather forecast for the day of the party right after I finished making my arrangements so I reluctantly canceled my plans.
Even though I didn’t get the chance to celebrate the way I wanted to, I am thankful to have reached this milestone. I know that the only reason I have made it this far is the grace of God. Sometimes, I forget the circumstances of my birth. If my mom had listened to the doctors when they told her to have a hysterectomy and adopt after her series of miscarriages, I wouldn’t be here. I am the miracle that she prayed for and she has made a lot of sacrifices to give me a better life than she had growing up. Therefore, it’s only fitting that I spend the rest of this day with my her. That being said, I haven’t given up on celebrating before the year is out. Thanks to my friends, I’ll make up for my canceled party on New Year’s Eve.