I remember walking into my mom's living room on my 20th birthday, declaring that I was now "old." Then I blinked. And now I'm 29. It's baffling to me how quickly the past nine years have gone. Of course when I turned 20 I was still in college, then I was a clueless graduate trying to navigate through the real world. Okay, I'm still clueless, but that's irrelevant.
When I was 12, I figured at this point I'd be married with three kids making six figures. Instead, I'm single with two roommates (although they are the best roommates a girl could ask for) and will only get married if I can figure out how to drug someone and force them to marry me.
The point of this blog is twofold: first, to force myself to write every day for the next year, something I've been saying I'd do and haven't done, and secondly, to try to remember things I've done up to this point, experiences that have made me who I am and turn it into something I can look back on.
Over the course of the past nine years, I've met people who have changed my life, for better and worse. I've laughed so hard I've cried, I've cried so hard I couldn't breathe (and, I think, scared a few cab drivers in the process), and I've moved more times than I can count (not really). But have I learned anything? That's what I hope to discover over the next year. This is where my 20s have come to die. Ready or not, 30 is next.
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