Since childhood (or maybe since the movie 13 Going on 30), we’ve been told that our 30s would be a magical time. A time when the angst-ridden insecurities of our youth fall away and we stop caring so much and can just live our best lives — maybe with a robust savings account, and a lover with a nice beard. Conventional wisdom insisted things only got better as we get older and our 30s would be prime time. Conventional wisdom is a dirty liar.Who told you that? When? I want specifics, because I don't believe anybody ever told you that. I am quite certain nobody ever told me that.
Your thirties a magical time? In our society your thirties are, for many people, when you have to get serious about family and career and stuff. That may be, I don't know, satisfying or fulfilling or something, but magical?
Argh.
I thought college was a magical time. I would be willing to entertain the thesis that childhood is a magical time. High school might be a magical time in the sense that Mordor is a magical place. But life in your 30s is just reality, coming hard and fast with no more excuses for avoiding it.
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