On turning 30

On turning 30.

I couldn’t resist crawling into a cocoon on my 30^th birthday. I taught all day long, met with a parent, went to a speech team meeting, and when I finally got off work, I went to a friend’s house, then a basketball game. It was a typical Monday. Very busy. It was a special day that I didn’t want to acknowledge, but I can’t deny that it lingered in the basement of my brain while I scurried around pretending to be normal. Thanks to my brother and my sister (in law), I found a couple hours to celebrate.

There I was. No longer in my fun twenties. Not willing to subscribe to the optimism of thirties are going to be even better! I just didn’t see it. I’ve always rooted myself in the playfulness, innocence and joy of youth. Is that still valid after living for three decades?

For the past few months, thoughts of claiming the traditions of adulthood have been pressing on my mind. If anything, I’m far from a traditional human being, and I’m okay with that. But certain things, such as owning a house and accomplishing something major in my life (publishing a book) are hanging over me, waiting to be grasped. Well, on my 30^th birthday, I decided I can wait no longer.

The downer was that I thought I’d have achieved these things by the time I turned 30. Instead, it took my milestone birthday to push me into a routine of daily writing, stringent saving, and abstinence from computer games. Well, near-abstinence.

I think that’s okay. I’ve changed my point of view in the last couple of days. Yes, life is passing by like a shooting star. My hair is falling out. My knees are making it hard for me to jump when I play basketball. My arms and fingers are taking forever to heal. I’m forgetful – though I don’t know if I can justifiably attribute that to old age. I’m getting more and more jaded as a teacher.

But if I scratch away the surface of these symptoms of grumpy aging, I find some real pearls. I’ve had 30 years to develop strong relationships with my family. I’ve sustained some positive friendships – I chose my friends wisely, I keep my circle tight, and we have a great time together. I’ve become close to my school community and a new church community. I’ve grown as a writer, a traveler, a musician, a teacher and a faithful follower of God.

Ten years ago, my writing was limited to the world of journalism, academic essays, slam poetry and rap. Now I write songs on the guitar, fiction, nonfiction and travel essays.

Ten years ago, I had just finished my first trip to Europe. Since then, I’ve navigated San Francisco, Washington D.C., Chicago, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Hiroshima, Auckland, Wellington, Sydney, Paris, Brussels, Brugge, Koln, Glan Munchweiler, Kaiserslautern, Trier, Rome, Ostia, Madrid and Avila. I’m also a pro at Newport, Oregon, and got a story published about it.

Ten years ago, I shuddered at the thought of singing in front of people. Now I get so much joy from it. I’m at ease with it. I’ve found a group I’m extraordinarily comfortable singing with. And in between these years, I’ve sung in a band, sang in front of Ricki Lee Jones, and sung at weddings and funerals. I could barely play the guitar ten years ago. Now I write songs that impressed a woman who works at a record label.

Ten years ago, I was not a teacher. I was a searcher. I was busy soaking up life to see what it had to offer. I made some major decisions. I concluded that journalism was not the route for me. I still wanted to help contribute to society, and I found a passion for education. I was fueled by the love I have for my own youth, and to help young people make the transition from adolescence to adulthood. So I became a teacher. Throughout my whole career, I’ve been dismantled and rebuilt several times. I’ve abandoned patience for anger, and had to learn to find peace over and over again. I’ve gained flexibility of character. I’ve fretted and struggled with my sense of self through my career as a teacher, but every time, I’ve resurfaced a refined person. I might be more jaded, but it’s only a nagging urge for me to leave port and search for new horizons. If there’s any experience that has helped me grow most significantly, it’s in my time spent as a teacher, and I have a magnificent school and staff to thank for that.

Ten years ago, my faith flourished in my ideals. Now I see my faith engrained in every aspect of my life. I developed a sort of God sense, which allows me to look at how each experience of my life fits in the grand scheme. Thus, I developed an acceptance of life’s outcomes, even if they are painful. In no way am I desensitized to that pain, but I recognize it as growth, and proceed with hope.

If I wanted to, I could accomplish anything. But I have a similar problem – one that’s plagued me my whole life. I have difficulty focusing. There was a brief period in college when I held four jobs on top of being a full time student. I’m still that guy who wants to do six million things, but has time for only one. It is a cursed blessing. I think I have many talents, and that’s a good thing. But I love doing so many things that I find it difficult to become really good at one thing and use that one thing to my advantage. Still, I see that being pretty good at many things is a gift in and of itself. I guess I am a humanities major.

Now that I’m 30, I see yet another crossroad before me. It’s similar to the one I faced in my early twenties. It’s the question of what do I want to do with my life. I know that I can teach. If I wanted to, I could remain at Guadalupe for my entire career and become a staple in that community. But I think I’ve always had a missionary mentality in that I can’t stay in one place forever. Even a place like OLG, which I love fiercely, I feel my focus drifting elsewhere. So here I am. Perhaps at the root of my ponderous state for the last three months.

Which road am I going to choose.

The last time I was here, I found excitement. I found exhilarating growth and personal development. I found a path that, in walking it, made me a better man than I was a decade ago.

Ten years from now, if I remain true to that innate compass, I have a feeling I’ll be able to say the same thing.