Tag Archives: postaweek 2011

The Numbers Game, or: Turning 30

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Recently, a friend asked me how old I am.  I answered that I’m 29.  He then replied that he thought I was somewhere around 25 (God bless him!).  I smiled and thanked him, mentioning something about the number 30, looming on the horizon.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he offered with a shrug.

Only, I kinda thought it would.  Or, think it will…or used the think that it will.  Wow.  Crazy English languange.  You know what I mean.  

Anyway, a conversation then ensued, in which another friend joined in and agreed that it was the 29th birthday that bothered them, not the 30th.  And once I started thinking about it, my 29th birthday did seem terrible.  I was all, “This is my last 20′s birthday.  Ever.  How does that even happen?!”  I kinda didn’t want to talk about it; wanted to leave it alone, pretend it wasn’t happening.  You know, pull one of those “If I don’t think about it, it’s not happening” mind tricks full of denial.

Then, a few days after my convo about turning 29/30, a 20-something friend of mine groaned that she’ll be thirty soon (in about a year and a half, mind you), as if her life would be over by then.

And you know what?  It just all of a sudden sounded ridiculous to me.  It was like I was having an out-of-body experience, or hearing myself on a recording and thinking, “THAT’s what I sound like?!”  It really seemed so silly.

Why are we obsessing about a number?  I mean, if you look at it, I’m technically IN my thirtieth year…you’re not 1 at birth, but celebrate your first year of life with your first birthday, after all.

Oh wow.  That just kinda hit me.  Okay, breathe….

Just kidding.

I realize that “30″ is scare for a lot of people, and for different reasons.  For me, I don’t think it was a matter of turning 30, but a matter of the goals I’d set for myself when 30 seemed a long ways off.  I turned 29 and realized I hadn’t done anything and my twenties were almost over.  But, that wasn’t really true.  The real issue was that I hadn’t done certain things and was hitting 29 and basically just beating myself up over it. 

But, after hearing my friend moan and groan over a number, I decided that it doesn’t matter what I’ve done or haven’t done by the time I turn 30.  It just doesn’t matter.  We can’t beat ourselves up over hitting another decade mark.  We can’t compare ourselves to our friends or acquaintances who have “done” more than we have.  They haven’t done more, they’ve just done differently. (I’m guilty of this particular no-no, so that’s why I mention it)

So today, I declare that a number will not restrict me.  It will not define me.  I’m going to LOVE my thirties. 

In the first Sex and the City movie, Carrie says that your twenties are for having fun, your thirties are for learning lessons and your forties are for buying the drinks.  I certainly hope not.  I’ve learned a ton of lessons in my twenties that were anything but fun.  I look forward to having fun in my thirties, loving who I am, and what I’ve done, not what I think I should have done. 

After all, it’s all about where you’re going, not where you’ve been!

Thou Shalt Not Rewrite History

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Oh. Em. Gee.

I was tempted to blog about this the other day, when I was angry.  I didn’t, and that’s a good thing.  Out of the moment, I can be more rational and actually use my grown-up words, instead of something along the lines of: “Friggin’ fraggin, stupid head! Blaaargh!!!!!!”

There are very few things that get me in a smoke-coming-out-of-my-ears, I’m gonna hurt somebody up in herre kinda mood, but rewriting history is one of them. 

A little background info: I’m a historian.  My particular expertise (yes, I think I can call it that now that I’m writing my thesis and am almost done with the whole graduate degree experience) is in the American Revolution.

Imagine, for just a moment, the horror I experienced when I heard this:

Oh holy crap!  This has nothing to do with politics.  It has to do with being a friggin’ fraggin’ stupidhead!!!!  Oh, dang it.  I got all emotional anyway.

P.S.: Brian Williams, the real life version involves lanterns and a whole lotta other details she killed too.  This seriously frustrates me to the point that I can’t do anything but huff and puff about the idiocy.  Why bother even writing a blog about it?  - Probably because it demands attention. 

Here’s the quote:

“He who warned uh, the British that they weren’t gonna be takin’ away our arms, uh by ringing those bells, and um, makin’ sure as he’s riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that we were going to be sure and we were going to be free, and we were going to be armed.”

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! 

I think my head is going to explode!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On his ride, Revere said, “The Redcoats are coming,” not “Hey British, you don’t get to take our guns away.” (((rolls eyes))) 

Of course the midnight ride has been morphed into something along the lines of American mythology, with the phrase “The British are coming,” at the center, no matter how incorrect the “quote” may be.  Revere would never have distinguished the Redcoats from the Patriots by calling them British – the colonies were still under British control, and most colonists considered themselves British.  That would have been like riding like a madman just to say, “We’re coming, we’re coming.”  On second thought, maybe Palin saw similar commentary and it confused her… 

Anyways the point is, it’s American myth, but you at least owe it to the nation to get something as simple as the midnight ride correct.  When you’re touring the country in a painted up bus.  On national television.  In Boston, where the Revolution spent its infancy.

(((shakes head)))

I really can’t defend this woman.  What is she trying to do?  Hopefully not run for office again.  I mean, she’s got a reality TV show (which everyone knows you have to do if you want people to take you seriously.  You know, if a sex tape doesn’t do the trick) and she’s makin’ crap up on the fly?  It makes my brain hurt…

In short, if you want to keep me happy, and if you don’t want to look like a fool on national television, thou shalt not rewrite history.

UPDATE: There’s been some talk that perhaps Palin was right because Revere supposedly “warned” the British once he was captured of something.  I’ll cite one of my go-to sources: Six officers captured Revere, but soon let him go, since they had bigger fish to fry.  Revere told one of the officers who captured him “that the British would ‘miss their aim,’ because he had alarmed ‘the country all the way up’ from Boston.”  (George F. Scheer and Hugh F. Rankin, Rebels & Redcoats: The American Revolution Through the Eyes of Those Who Fought and Lived It. Cambridge: Da Capo Press, 1957.)

This sounds like more a threat than a warning, AND it was not said with bells clanging, guns shooting and on the back of a horse.  Revere didn’t warn the British, he warned the Americans, and there was no mention of anyone taking away anyone’s arms.  Sorry, Sarah. Try again.

Worst. Teacher. Ever.

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I’d like to say I can look back, as an adult, and talk about this teacher from a mature perspective.  I can do this for most, but there’s on teacher that I just can’t give any excuses, adult perspective, or even benefit of the doubt to.  I just can’t. 

Actually, I’ve tried my best to erase him from my memory, and I can’t even remember his name: something starting with an H.  We’ll call him “Mr. H.”

He was my freshman algebra teacher.  You remember how you felt as a freshman – total fish out of water, oh-my-gosh-where-am-I? I-don’t-wanna-be-here-where’s-my-mom?! experience, right? 

Week three of freshman hell.

“Your entire generation is a failure.”

I kid you not; those are the words that came out of his mouth.  The guy was a jerk, a racist, a sexist, and clearly a HORRIBLE teacher.  I can look back at all the other teachers that were “too strict,” “too boring,” or just plain mean over the years and explain things away from an adult perspective, but this guy is the exception.  Who says that to a classroom full of kids?

I was already horrible at math.  In the third week of my freshman year, I checked out of the subject altogether.  Who knows? I could have stood a fighting chance in the math department in subsequent years had I grasped the concepts he was too bored with to teach us properly.  Way to be awesome, Mr. H.

Friday Night Fun

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…or, “Seven Signs of the Apocalypse.”  Yes, in a totally un-ironic twist of singledom fate, I have just finished watching two hours of death and destruction and I didn’t even get to watch Vin Diesel or similar while doing it. 

With the prediction that the world will end tomorrow, a ton of channels are airing apocalyptic-themed television shows, and I of course stumbled upon one.  Might as well educate the masses, right?  Well, the show was a whole bunch of blowing things up, melting faces, liquefying organs, starving children, and such, and while I am NOT mocking anything that is in the Bible – despite what my laundry list of catastophes may look like (it will all eventually happen because that’s just how it works), it’s just not something that makes you happy on a Friday night. 

But, there’s a funny side to this whole “the world’s gonna end this weekend” story:

It’s brought some savvy businessmen/women out of the woodwork: If you’re worried about the aftermath of the May 21st “deadline,” there’s a company that ensures – for a small fee – that your pets are taken care of after the Rapture.  (View it HERE). I personally believe all dogs go to heaven – except maybe those that maul children, but who am I to judge? – so this is a double-moot point as far as I’m concerned.

Also, the CDC has ironically [or not!] released its advice for survival in the event of a zombie apocalypse.  You know, because that’s so predictable.  (View this one HERE)

Do you think the world will end tomorrow?

I don’t.  Basically for two reasons:

  1. “No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (Matt 24:36 NIV), and
  2. It’s my belief that God won’t end the world on a day that tons of people are predicting, specifically because of the above scripture.  Plus, I like to respectfully believe that He has a sense of humor, and He’s probably looking down here and wondering what the 89-year-old radio evangelist is thinking.  He’s probably laughing at the guy.  You know, because all the radio dude has to do is look in the Bible and find the answer to his speculation (plus, the evangelist was already wrong once before - in 1994). I wonder how he’ll explain this second miscalculation away when he wakes up on Sunday morning…

In “preparation” for this weekend, may I offer the following bit of advice:  This weekend, stay away from big cities and landmarks.  Seriously people.  Hollywood has proved that Paris [especially the Eiffel Tower], Tokyo, NYC, L.A., Hollywood, sometimes San Francisco, Rome, Egypt – specifically Giza – and the Great Wall of China are all giant antennae for asteroids, earthquakes, fires, volcanoes, and other catastrophic horrors.  Also of note: bad guys with crazy powers who can only be battled by crime-fighting mutants or superheroes possessing x-ray vision like to attack these same cities.  It’s probably a good idea to avoid them pretty much any time.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

And with that, dear friends, I bid you adieu.  Have a happy Saturday and I’m sure I’ll see you Sunday.