Turning 30

On November 20th, 2010 I turned 30 years old. Because I could no longer honestly say “I'm in my twenties” and also because it ends in a zero there was an added emphasis and protracted reflection on this birthday. I'm not a fetishist for numerology but speaking with my friends about this particular 29-to-30 threshold – it's kind of a big deal.

Every birthday until 25 was something to look forward to, I was young, virile, opportunities abounded and responsibility was scarce. Since 25, it seemed like more doors have been closed than opened. Foolishly, I felt as long as I was closer to 20 than to 30 nothing was impossible.

Now I'm 30. And with this comes some extinguished chances. I'm probably not going to be a rock star, a movie actor or in the NHL. Granted, these are not professions I actively pursued but the fact remains those all seemed viable at 20 and ridiculous ten years later. That's the weirdest part. I'm not going to enrage any middle-aged person reading this by claiming that I'm old, but I'm not a young man anymore. Life seems to have parameters and limits now that I can no longer make the claim I suffer from youth.

But with this trammelled future does come some welcome changes. It's the easiest thing in the world to lionize your laziness by falling back on the old standby of 'I'm still young, there's plenty of time'. No longer having that shield of apathy is scary but exciting. I need to be an active participant to achieve any desires of mine, the future is no longer a haze of easily-fulfilled promises – it's clearly uncertain, frustrating, easily led astray and rapidly approaching.

Externally, not being in the key MTV demographic has its advantages also. An eighteen-year-old pursuing a right-brained, ethereal artistic career is easy to dismiss. A 30-year-old giving up their weekend to paint or work on a play is harder to roll your eyes at. I suppose you could argue they seem just more pathetic, but only assholes think that way – if you're reading my blog I'm assuming you'd agree with me that they are the ones to be taken all the more seriously and are the ones who view these endeavours as vocations more than hobbies. I was almost 28 when I graduated film school, trust me, by that age it was something I had to do much more than something that just seemed neat or cool.

As my 30s continue to march along I am excited for the focus of my options disappearing will afford. Sometimes when you can do everything you don't end up doing anything. Unlimited options can be paralyzing. There's only a few things I like to do and thankfully I haven't reached my expiry date on doing them yet, I know where my skills lie and, moreover, I know my limitations and no longer ignore either. Learning will, of course, continue until I stop breathing, but I don't have the same need to impress or fear of showing an area of weakness. It's oddly liberating to have less freedom.

I began this essay with only the vaguest idea of what I wanted to say (perhaps this is obvious). As a theme slowly emerges, what I'm discovering is that what the years directly preceding 30 have given me is a clear picture of who I am. Even the closed doors of aging seem less scary because I know exactly how I will deal with it. I know what I can change and I know what's beyond my control. The large question marks of identity have been answered and accepted.

Now all that remains is everything else. And even here I feel a tentative smile. Many of the support beams of adulthood have been erected and fortified for me. I'm in love, mercifully reciprocated. I have a home. I'm okay financially. I live where I want to. I'm one of five people in my graduating class who did not gain 40 pounds during my 20s. Job-wise I'm in an abyss, but I suppose I may have to be relegated to the lucky in love, unlucky in cards bin.

How do I feel? Older but not old. Now that the birthday is over I don't feel afraid, but maybe just a little pressured. Expectations are high in this decade. The big, common milestones of marriage, children, home ownership do give gravity to this period of my life. Strangely, that's not where the pressure comes from. I just don't want to lose the best parts of my pre-30 life. My originality, my humour, my love of the arts, my obtuseness. Because in many ways, I don't feel different than I did at sixteen. I know I've changed, but mostly I recognize it only by the measuring stick of other people's perceptions and comments and when I force myself, like through this essay, to think for an extended period of time of where I am in life and how I feel about it. Another gift age has given me is the knowledge that I like myself. There's always room for improvement and I carry my regrets with me into every year. However, it's very easy to become sated and stagnant in your 30s. I've seen it happen.

That's the one thing that still scares me a lot. I don't want good ol' Jag to disappear into dull, unoriginal adulthood and commonplace middle age. With every nebulous conversation that goes unspoken, with every silly dream that ends with a passing year – an ugly opportunity to rest on past accomplishments or to act dutifully to an expected script gets larger and easier.

The first day of 30 has felt welcomingly uncomfortable. If I had the chance for the conversation with 20-year-old Jag this is what I would say:

“30 isn't that different from 20. The biggest difference is all those desires and goals and problems that you think of as beneath you or uninteresting are neither. You'll want kids, a wife, a job, a house and stability too. You're not that special. But listen: all those other things that make you unique, those aren't going to leave. You'll love movies, music, art, your friends, your opinions even more. You'll be less shy about talking about them, and arguing for them. You'll know way more about them and understand their importance in a more profound way. And those are the things you'll have to fight for more when you get older, because no one else will care about them. You have to love them just for you and you'll have to work hard and commit to not losing that love. You'll be better around women and you'll be okay when you fuck up and you'll actually learn from mistakes. You'll understand you do possess unique gifts and talents, you'll recognize you can offer something no one else can.

Bad news: you'll still look like you're 40.”