I've heard people reassure my eldest sister, "Being 40 isn't too bad. 40 is the new 30, after all." It made me wonder. I'm in that state of being a "thirtysomething" so...what am I? I was hanging out with some friends over Christmas, and it was noted that we were being loud, drinking a lot, not really acting like adults (crude conversations as only people who are married can even discuss), and basically we were being a rowdy group of perverts. Someone jokingly said, "Meh, don't worry about it, 30 is the new 20 so we can act like idiot college students."
Being 30... I suppose there were a lot of things I thought would happen by now that haven't come to pass: a lucrative career, a few novels published, a house of my own, a family. Some of my friends have all that, and I'm a bit jealous. Maybe it won't happen until I'm 40, since "40 is the new 30."
However, I'm finding myself in an awkward phase. I feel trapped between one stage in life and another.
I began to notice this metamorphical transition when I began to write fanfiction. Such a hobby is seen as the budding writing attempts of teenagers, focusing on love affairs that never happened in the actual story, or feeling out their own strengths and weaknesses. In other words, 90% of all fanfiction is poorly written verbage-garbage written by hormonal adult-children. They're trying, though, and it's a medium for editorial help that didn't exist when I was a teenager. Then there's me. I usually keep my age a secret, although I did finally state on my profile that I'm "over 25." That alone makes me old. My readers are the same age as some of my friend's children. Still, I try to teach through writing, I "beta read" (AKA, edit manuscripts) for a select few who I deem as having true potential. I could not tell you how many people have written fan letters to me saying that my style of writing has inspired them to write also. I am called "sensei" and "taicho," Japanese for teacher and captain. I'm a mentor on that site. One reader who discovered my age called me "the old lady of fanfiction."
Then, on Tuesday nights, I pick up my trombone and play with the local symphonic band. Amongst my peers in the trombone section, I'm the only female and the only one without gray hair...besides a half dozen rogue strands. So since all the other trombonists are between the ages of 55-70, I'm "the little girl" of the trombone section. They respect me, but I felt like I had to earn that respect. I'm a child in their eyes, a youngster. One of the trombonists in the group avoided me with a sense of awkwardness until he found out I majored in music, studied music theory in college, and was a section leader (and later instructor) for my youth band. That apparently impressed him, showed him I'm mature and know what the hell I'm doing, and now he's talking to me like an equal. But again, I'm "the little girl" who has to struggle to gain the respect of the "older adults." I've always had the pressure of being female in a male-dominated instrumental section, but now I have pressure for being so young.
So I'm "the old lady" but also "the little girl." I'm trapped between two phases in my life, that of being a vibrant adult in my prime, yet not quite considered elderly and experienced. My in-laws still refer to me and my husband as "the kids." I had a neighbor's son see me coming up the street and shout "Run, it's a grownup!" (That was awkward.) People call me "ma'am." People call me "young miss." Because my hair refuses to turn gray, my former school friends see me and exclaim "You haven't aged a day," yet I'm no longer carded when I buy alcohol because I look old enough (21 in this country). I'm fully entrenched as an adult, but I'm still seen as a young person. That's...good, I guess. But it's becoming awkward.
30 isn't the new 20.
30 is the new 15.
Fifteen years old: that awkward stage of not being a child but not being an adult, when your body is changing, puberty sneaks up on you, zits plague your skin, hormones are raring, independence becomes a struggle as you battle parents and teachers, stupid choices are made (drugs, drinking, weird hair colors), and we desire with all our heart to "belong," no matter which clique we pick to hang out with.
Thirty years old: that awkward stage of not being recklessly young but not being satisfied with the settled adult life, when your body is changing, gray sneaks into your hair, wrinkles threaten to crease your skin, hormones are beginning to wane, freedom becomes a struggle as you battle bosses and the tether of having children to lug around, stupid choices are made (sleeping pills, drinking, mid-life crisis), and we desire with all our heart to "return" to youth, no matter if that means we sound like old fogies talking about "the good old days."
Yes, 40 may be the new 30, but 30 is the new 15.
