29 year old Pagan
female who lives in Florida with her guy and two cats, loves Disney,
reads fanatically, tinkers in photography and believes growing up is
overrated
Help support Pet Cancer Awareness
I lost my beloved cat,
Kush, to cancer in 2003. Cancer is the #1 disease-related cause of death
for cats and dogs. With your support, together we can find a cure
Noah's Wish
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"plum blossom" ver. 16
originally created 3/21/07 and designed for 1024x768
CSS capable browser Like
There are people on
the net that
have nothing better to do with their time then be nasty
to other
people online. They post rude comments, spend hours a
day talking
about sites they hate so much, that they well, spend
hours a day
talking about them. (lame) They mock the owners and
posters for
their opinions and their right to free speech. They
expect everyone
to fit into their narrow-minded little world view or
else they throw
a temper tantrum.
To these people I say
grow up.
Here's a bit of info
people...the
web is a HUGE place. If you don't like what I say here,
or who I am,
or what I do, or talk about, or what I look like, or
the color of my
hair, or whatever asinine thing you dwell on, go
somewhere else.
It's really, really easy. Honest. You just click the
little "x" in
the corner of your browser and *poof* the offending,
big, mean and
nasty site has disappeared.
I pay for this site.
It's mine.
That means I can use it for whatever the hell I want
to. Don't like
it if I'm bitching about something in my life? Oh
fucking well. Go
somewhere else. Think I'm stupid for expressing my
thoughts? Too
fucking bad, don't read them. Somewhere along the line,
someone
forgot this simple fact: Live and let live Don't
like me,
cool, fine, whatever, I don't care. This journal
is NOT for
you. It's for me. I'm not in it for popularity or fame
or anything
stupid like that. I write it because I need to write
and express
myself and get things out of my head sometimes. So read
or don't, it
doesn't matter, but don't waste my time (or yours)
bitching about
it.
*gets off soapbox*
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M. Turner
Po Box 1484
Elfers, FL 34680
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29 Today is the last day I am 29. My last day as a "twenty-something." I'm experiencing the big odometer roll-over tomorrow. The big 3-0. Thirty.
Most people tell me not to worry over it. That it's just a number or that it's a good age; that it doesn't mean I'm getting old. And logically, I know 30 isn't really all so different from 29. But logic doesn't come into play.
Thirty is this fictional reality you build for yourself when you're younger. It's this milestone that you visualize when you think of yourself as all grown up. The house, the career, the family if you want one - that's all somehow manifest in your imaginings by that age. But no one ever realizes how quickly the years pass and how hard those dreams can be to actually reach.
Thirty hurts me because I feel so stagnant in my life. I've been dealing with chronic health problems for years now without the benefit of medical assistance to help me figure it all out. I'd question the reality of it all except I am physically incapable of holding down a full time job because of those problems. For years though, I told myself there was something wrong with me that had nothing to do with doctors; that I was just defective that I didn't seem able to do what millions of people do with great ease. I moved from job to job thinking I was just a failure. So it's hard to remove that from my mind at this point. It's like, without struggling through the medical system for validation, those doubts still haunt me.
I always wanted to travel, to see things, to go places. And here I am entering my third decade never having been anywhere. It's hardly impressive to say the furthest West you've been is New Orleans. I've seen several states on the Eastern Seaboard and that's it. And even then, it's been seven or more years since I've even left the state of Florida. I've been on a plane twice when I was 15 but it made me so sick I haven't been able to get back on one since.
I never went to college. My pre-paid fund was stolen by my biological father. So I have no degree, no certification, nothing to validate my worthiness in the world. But what does it matter since I also have no career and no ability to have one due to my health. Who cares if I don't ever better myself, when all it would do is act as a piece of paper on my wall?
So I stop and take stock of where I am as I reach thirty and I find I'm not anywhere. I haven't done anything, I haven't seen anything and most painful, I haven't become anyone. I'm just this girl who drifts about, accomplishing nothing, and having no real voice or identity. No impact on the world and no legacy of actions or deeds.
This isn't a pity-party or a cry for supportive comments. This is just me, taking a long, hard look at my life and realizing I'm not doing anything with it. And finding myself not knowing how to make that change or even if I want to make the change. There's some small comfort in banality because no one ever expects anything of you, so there's no one to let down. Including yourself. If you don't strive for anything, you don't have to lick your wounds when you fail. Life has taught me that I will fail, so why not just not try and save myself the effort? Everything in my life is bound up by limitations, restrictions and inabilities. Many of them are nothing I can do anything about even if I wanted. No car, no money, no choices.
So I find myself just sitting, watching the days pass and another year coming on. I look at where I thought 30 would mean and see that it's not only not adding up, it's just reminding me how little I have to look forward to from here on. I've set my path long ago and it's not really going to change. I think, more than anything, this birthday is a loss of hope. A loss of possibility. I find myself at a place where it's all the same as far as the eye can see, in every direction and in every way. It's never too late to change! you say, but honestly, sometimes, it kinda is. And deep down, we all know that no matter what we tell ourselves or each other.
)