Dear John Letter to My 20’s…

Dearest Twenties,
It’s official. The time has come for us to finally part ways. Our years together have been ones of self-discovery and self-destruction, good times and bad, filled with belly aching laughter and tears aplenty. But it’s time to move on. I’ve outgrown you and need to pursue things that only my Thirties can fully support. In other words, Twenties- It’s not you, it’s me. You’ve been fantastic and I’ll always remember you, but really… I’m just not that into you anymore.

I do, though, remember the beginning like it was yesterday. I thought you were the coolest- providing me with freedom, boatloads of cocktails and the notion that anything was possible. Who was to say what would happen or where we’d go? We spent those first few years finishing out college and then moved to Boston and lived with the most wonderful best friends a girl could have- spending evenings painting our nails, watching movies, pondering clothes and boys and dancing around our apartment with glasses of cheap Merlot in hand. Our first apartment on our own- with no one to answer to but ourselves. Who cares if it was practically falling down and all the other tenants were cab drivers? It was OURS and we loved it. Traversing the decade meant we were to make some big fashion mistakes as well (red pleather snakeskin pants anyone?) and design disasters (I recall painting over old wallpaper because we were too lazy to rip it down and also thinking twinkle lights everywhere were so, so chic). But man, did we have a good time…

We all had jobs that we disliked, but we didn’t know what we wanted to be or do and we had time to feel that way- after all, our time with you had just begun. I sold art and insurance (yup, insurance- and for two years at that), picked out fabrics and lights for other designers, ran errands, cried into my wine glass at night over mean bosses, got fired, got hired, planned events, sang loudly in the car with the windows down driving home just happy to be alive but also sat in bed feeling doomed to never find my REAL calling. I finally quit a job that bored me and took a big risk by trying to do something on my own- a little thing called a blog. Which turned out to be the best decision I ever made in my whole damn life. It started as nothing and has really turned into something. A career. One that makes me totally psyched to wake up in the morning and proud to announce is mine at cocktail parties (because really, it never felt worse than when someone asked me “what I did” when I was not proud of the answer). There is still so much more I want to do- write a novel, paint and become a skilled photographer, throw elegant parties, design more homes or perhaps give it all up and open a bakery, a yoga studio or maybe become a therapist (the crazies make the best ones, so I should be able to knock that sh*t out of the park). I have no idea what I’ll become. I have no idea what I am. All I know is that this is the time to find out and I can’t do that with you, Twenties.

On top of all that heart-pounding confusion that comes with careers, we had a lot to deal with when it came to matters of the actual heart. There was that idiot I managed to latch myself to for five friggin’ years that I finally let go of and never, ever thought of again. Flanking him were those I liked, loved and lusted after. I had my heart broken and felt that pure sense of longing that only unrequited love can inflict. I felt angry, desired, rejected, restless and at peace. So many things for one person to feel, yet we all do every single day. You brought me some really memorable moments too- meeting Andrew (on match.com nonetheless) who made me feel safe and adored, being proposed to (and answering with “go f*ck yourself”- a looooong, very funny story), getting married in the most beautiful wedding ever and now trying to understand what marriage and love all means and how it works in the long term. It’s pure craziness, but pretty damn cool too.

One very important thing you’ve taught me Twenties, is that life is messy. It’s never the way you pictured it would be and it never will be. It might be better or it might be worse- or perhaps just totally, unexpectedly different. You can’t predict how you’ll feel or what will happen tomorrow. I think the most important lesson you showed me, and late in the game at that, is that trying to mold my life using the strict rules and assumptions I set out with will never work and will only create hostility and unhappiness. I learned from you that the “not knowing” is what makes it beautiful and exciting. But with that said, I think the thirties will be the most profound time for me and I think it’s about time I got on with it. Big changes, or maybe just small ones, await and I’m kind of psyched to see where they take me. Even if it does mean I have to pony up for some extra strength anti-wrinkle cream (after all, we did enjoy baking in the sun quite a bit during our time).

But don’t be sad, Twenties. I see girls every day who are looking forward to their time with you. I love seeing the twinkles in their eyes when they think about how you will be the best time of their life. And you might be, but as for me, I think the best is yet to come.

Xoxo,
Erin



Dirty 30….

In a mere 3 weeks I will be turning 30. I am not scared of this at all, actually, I happen to think my 30’s will be far superior to my 20’s. In honor of this milestone, I’m having a little paaaarrrtttaaayyyy. Naturally. And being me, I of course had to dork out and do an inspiration board as I planned it. So for lack of a better post this morning, here is what my party will look like in my head. How it actually turns out, we’ll see. But how can you miss with lots of hot pink, orange, candles, twinkle lights, Blue Ribbon BBQ, good friends and sangria? I mean, really.




And then a few weeks later I get to celebrate again with Andrew – wandering the streets, cafes and shops of Paris!


(even though I still lust for this. Am hideously greedy little monster.) ;)
I know Paris will be better than my watch. Always time to get a watch, right? Pun intended.

29 and Counting.

Today I’m 29. I can practically taste 30 from here and it’s wiggin’ me out a bit, I won’t lie. It’s raining, which it does almost every year on my birthday, but I’ll try to not get pissy about that too. 28 was both a really crappy yet really exciting year for me; professionally it completely rocked (in a kinda scary way which quitting your stable job to start something on your own tends to be). So far 29 is starting off on a good foot and will be a big building year for me and my company, I hope.
If you ask my mom, I’ve made such a friggin’ huge deal about my birthday since I consciously knew what it was. Jokes about it being a “national holiday” or my “birthday month” were laughed at by others as I sat in a corner pouting “well, it is a big deal…” Parties were a must, of course. Anyone remember Fudgy the Whale? I believe he attended quite a few of my b-day festivities. Nothing beats ice cream cake with crunchies in the middle….

This year will be quiet, with the hubby and Baxter (who I got last year around my birthday!) I was going to do a big wish list post but I think I’ll skip it this year- seems a little unbecoming of me right now. Rather, I think I’ll take the day off- except for a meeting I have, and of course if I find anything I must share with you- because after all, the best birthday gift* is having a job that you LOVE and that doesn’t feel like work, right?
*That and front row center tickets to Coldplay in Dallas for me and my cousin Annie. That too would be the best. :)