Because the moon is PHENOMENAL right now. The lunar eclipse will continue for another 2 hours or so, but go see it while the moon is basically gone to get the full impression. And as you gaze skyward, think of all the other people all over the world (and especially on our darling east coast) delaying their bedtimes just a little bit to end their weekend with some of the craziest sh*t mother nature can think of.
On Saturday, I turn 30.
As a young woman, 30 can feel like a wall you have no choice but to climb. Society tells us that at 30, you should be…
- settled (whatever that means)
- excelling at your career
- thinking about having babies (that mythical crocodile clock is ticking, yo)
- great at managing your finances, nutrition, scented candles for each season, etc.
- svelte and polished
But… what about happy?
Because while I think I’m on track for some of the items on that list, what I am bringing with me as I cross the threshold into 30 is much more intangible. It’s the knowledge that I’m mortal, the wisdom that it’s ok to try and fail (at hobbies, love, political campaigns – whatever!). It’s knowing who my true friends are and what’s worth my tears (which doesn’t mean I don’t get upset when my dress rips or my cookies burn in my dastardly oven – it just means I also know that those things don’t really matter). It’s adventures and wishes and bruises and “league champion” t-shirts and shoes that are so comfortable, I don’t care who knows that they’re Crocs.
I – and many of my peers – spent my late 20s thinking that life was something we could win at, as though there would be a medal waiting for us at the end. But what in the world would the “end” be? And who would be by our side to celebrate? And was it all worth busting our butts for?
I hope that my 30s bring more adventures. More opportunities to prove myself and have the world open up to me. More spicy food and late nights and late mornings recovering. More love – from the people I know now and those I haven’t even met yet who will change my life.
Because this isn’t the end – this is barely the beginning.
So now I’m going to eat up every bite of this last week of being 30 – and then, going to dive headfirst into whatever’s next!
For more mid-year reflections on turning 30, read this!
New York may not be my city but it’s a dang good one.
I visited Kat and Wes in NYC last weekend with Katie in a grand celebration of all things summer and musicals.
Despite spending the days working, our visit had a decidedly festive air. We ate empanadas in Times Square, toasted to the weekend in a noisy beer garden with fellow New Yorker, Kate, and watched the moon rise over the glittering lights of Broadway.
Just before the Tonys, we bought tickets to two new musicals: Finding Neverland and Somethjng Rotten. If they won big, we didn’t want to miss seeing the OBC (Original Broadway Cast). And even though they didn’t, we couldn’t wait to see what they had in store.
First was Finding Neverland: the story of the family and man behind Peter Pan. I saw it twice when it was at the ART in Boston starring Jeremy Jordan and it brought me to tears both times with great stagecraft, moving songs, and adorable plot. The magic held on Broadway, though the seats were much further away.
Saturday was spent at Coney Island, drinking lemonade, riding thrill rides, and sticking our feet in the water for one last dip of summer. Coney is one of the most colorful beaches I know, and so fun to look at from the pier, with its bright coasters rising almost from the sand.
In the evening, we saw Something Rotten – the tale of brother playwrights trying to break out of Shakespeare’s shadow. It was basically made for musical theater lovers and 17 year old boys, with its crude humor and send up to every hit show in the last 80 years. “A musical” was legitimately a show stopper – I spent the four minutes clapping trying to figure out if anything I could do or shout would get them to give an encore presentation.
Our greatest adventure came as we were leaving, and took a shortcut down a staircase that had just been closed off – only to find that the entrance back into the main theater had also been closed off and now we were en route to backstage, along with friends and family of the cast. “Is that Josh Groban or someone who looks like him?” Kat asked. Yep, it was him. We followed him out the official exit into the night, past the waiting fans who didn’t give him or us a second glance.
The hilarious thing is how similar the shows were to each other. Both were about male writers trying to write their next big thing. Both featured songs of writing torment that involved dancing through spinning doors. Both had jokes about women’s rights and the modern world – though they meant 1590 and the early 1900s. The music was completely different but the plots echoed of each other and of classic stories told throughout time (you know, all those ones with spinning doors…)
What’s your favorite thing to do when visiting NYC?