By 30, I'd Hoped to Own a Barbie Pink Beetle

It's been quiet in the blogosphere. Maybe I'm just being boring, or maybe this overposting is taking its toll. I've been a quiet commenter lately, myself. I always have trouble commenting. I know I should--I know it's the right thing to do--but I find it difficult for some reason. I think I'm just a lurker by nature.

Happy 30th birthday to my brother-in-law, Chris. We had a nice time hanging out in Carolina Beach last night, though sadly, there were no oysters to be had. I'm very excited and aware of the fact that I will turn 30 this year. It's such a nice round number.

Though I love to get older, I suffer from the same insecurities as everyone else does: Have I done enough by this point? Am I the person I thought I would be? Most of the time I look around me and feel deeply satisfied by my life: this beautiful house, my incredible husband, the dogs, a job I don't just tolerate but take real pleasure and pride in. Mostly, as my new friend Kathy says, I feel pleased with the calibre of people in my life.

I wish that I had been able to hold it together in enough in my early twenties to secure for myself now the things that I need--more money, health insurance, etc. I wish I were able to have kids in the next couple of years instead of worrying about getting my teeth back in order, replacing the very necessary glasses that I lost in 2001, buying a house.

And yet, I don't feel sorry about the way I've lived my life. I know that I didn't always behave very responsibly during the years I was in graduate school, but I had hell of a good time, even when it was hard and frightening. I met some great people. I figured out a lot about myself and what I need.

Still, I struggle most with being too passive. This has been a difficult week, and what I felt last friday is still very much with me. I think I'll always feel that the price of confrontation is too high. I'm the kind of person who doesn't speak up until it is far too late, until I am too angry, too hurt to go on. I've worried at it all week, until I came to the conclusion that part of what I value most in myself is the ability to suck it up. I don't know. Everyone argues with me on that point, and I value what they say. I just know that I'm resting easier knowing that I don't have to hurt anyone.