30 is the new 15

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.

The End of 2011

Okay, so I'm sitting here in the last days of 2011 thinking back over the year, trying to remember good times, bad times, and what was memorable.

That... is a problem. I really can't remember anything memorable.

I mean, we took a vacation to see family in California this past Thanksgiving, and that is most definitely noteworthy, considering we hadn't been back in four years. But what happened otherwise?

Every time I think of something, it dawns on me that, nope, that was LAST year. "Oh, my parents came to visit for 3 weeks." Nope last winter they did, but they left before New Year. "Oh! My best friend visited." Nope, last year too. My in-laws took a trip up this summer, and that was nice, but they often do that.

* What did I do for Valentine's Day? No clue.
* What about Spring Break? Honestly can't recall.
* Hubby got a real good job, which is awesome beyond belief after the crap he's been through.
* This summer, the in-laws visited, went to the coast for a day, saw some museums... otherwise, I didn't do much.
* What did I do for my birthday? Well, we saw Phantom of the Opera and that was awesome.
* We had that flood upstairs that drenched us downstairs... guh, not something to be remembered.
* My hubby finally got the electric guitar he was obsessing over for months.
* We missed Talk Like A Pirate Day.
* We sort of ignored Halloween.
* I never got to go to a write-in for NaNoWriMo.
* Then I had an abscessed tooth that laid me up for many weeks with a fever and swollen face before I finally found a dentist who would pull it.
* The 8 days in California were awesome, at least.

* My hubby didn't really want to do anything for his birthday and just wanted Pizza Hut.
* Christmas was pretty quiet, just dinner with the uncle.
* New Year's Eve looks like it'll be quiet too.

The thing that will stand out about 2011 is my plunge into fan fiction. I tested the waters out last year, but this past summer was when I discovered the manga Fairy Tail and got sucked in. I'm now making a bit of a name for myself (or at least "Rhov" is) writing for the Fairy Tail community. "Lion's Pride" is my own little source of pride. I've been meeting other aspiring writers, and although I think the average age is 17, it's still nice to chat with new people. I feel like an elderly sage giving them advice. Maybe it's a short-lived obsession, but I will likely keep writing fanfics for Fairy Tail in 2012, at least finishing up the stories I've started.

Otherwise, I did very little writing, no noteworthy photography, I'm playing percussion instead of my darling trombone until I get the rest of my dental work done, didn't go sailing, didn't get to walk along the beach despite being in Astoria this summer and being in California only minutes from the beach! I missed the Perseid meteor shower for maybe the first time ever, I didn't get to pick blackberries, I did almost nothing for NaNoWriMo... sort of a let-down of a year.

Except in fan fiction... which is sort of an ephemeral fame, people adore your writing but forget about it the next day as they read the avalanche of verbose tripe that overwhelms that site every hour.

Now 2012 is looming like that shadow you feel before you see anything. There are, of course, dooming theories about this upcoming year. We had enough "end of the world" prophecies this year. Nothing happened. People thought the "Occupy" movement would rock the foundations of society. Nothing happened. So maybe we're getting jaded. Even if we knew for certain the day and hour Armageddon was coming, half the population would still say, "Well, if it comes, it comes, I ain't waiting for it to end." Maybe the Mayans knew something, maybe they just ran out of room and the Mayan calender is the Y2K of the ancient world.

In any case, I'll keep writing, I'll keep trying to get published, I'll complete that fanfic I've started, I'll keep hoping I can one day finish Shadowstrider, and I'll continue to be a loving wife, a good child, a musician, a writer, a sailor, and a geek girl... all for the price of one!

I ain't waiting for it to end.