For some, 13 feels like it’s just yesterday. Well for me, it is. In 1987, geeky 13-year old Jenna just wanted to be popular and so after her 13th birthday party went awry, she wished she could just be thirty instead. The novel 13 Going On 30 by Christa Roberts could contradict what I’m feeling right now. Who wants to turn thirty, flirty, and thriving but still feeling unfulfilled? There seems could be nothing hip in my teen years. My birthday parties were spent with my parents and brothers at home while watching T.V; I did not have my debut, did not attend the Prom night, didn’t get jaded on Friday nights and get sobered up early on Saturdays, I did not join the cheering squad and I wasn’t reprimanded for taking a risk in cutting classes, nor was I grounded for a week due to a few nights bonfire at the beach with a boyfriend. I was young, and the next minute, I was old. My life started when I was twenty. Being the late bloomer that I am, I have spent ten years backing up what I’ve missed for the past twenty years. At twenty, I grabbed a lousy job which didn’t promise career growth and character boost, but which served as a passport going to the city. A friend from high school saw me and agreed to share an apartment with me. It was then that I spent countless nights going to night bars and discos, playing billiards with all the dates they were trying to match-make on me and my first time to throw-up and have some late-night hangovers. We went to malls, and it was they who reminded me not to wear loose shirts and sneakers again because I looked better on skirt, strappy sandals and classic tops donned on. At twenty-one, I quitted my job and spent my pay over books and piles of magazines. I wanted to become a novelist or a webpage designer – a job which is a public service, but requires working alone. But then, I lacked resources. I didn’t have a word processor and an internet connection, and I didn’t even have a place conducive to writing and reading. So if I wanted to write, I have to start honing my skills through books first. I sent out short stories to Publishing Firms, and I wasn’t able to concentrate on my current designation. I botched five jobs because I wasn’t happy, and I was exhausted after moving out from one apartment to another 6 times. Right then, I forgot about writing. When I started working in a telecommunications company, I was able to upgrade my PC and practice webpaging. It was fun, but my schedule became hectic and work was toxic, so I didn’t have time to continue pursuing it. I was propelled forward to a job I didn’t like, and I couldn’t stop imagining about my dream job but I couldn’t quit because I had to pay my bills and rent. I had my first boyfriend when I was twenty-two but later discovered that I was more in love with love than with the person himself, so I broke up with him, only to find out that the next relationship would all become a frustration. I fell in love with 3 different guys and was turned down through three similar incidents after slamming the phone down opposite to a sexy voice who happened to be their girlfriends. What was wrong with me? I tried to catapult on my couch every night to seize for the answer, but nothing came close except the doubt that I might be sending the vibe of an external-YES and internal-NO syndrome. A wise man once told me that a lesson is repeated until learned. Maybe, I should just try to stop the malady of thinking about them and start letting go. It was hard because my thoughts were contagious. I started enrolling in driving lesson, swimming lesson, guitar lesson, cooking, photography, and other short courses that could contribute on rediscovering myself to find out what makes me different from others. Time is running so fast. I didn’t realize there’s so much more to do under the sun that a lifetime is not enough for me to experience everything. I didn’t want to turn 30 that fast because I wasn’t done having fun. I was going crazy, so I dug out my old stuff and reduced four dressers to shambles. I think I still wanted to write. I’m gonna use all the pain and emotions I’ve got flowing in a piece of paper. So when somebody try to pressure me to settle down just because for them, I’m behind schedule (What is their problem?), I won’t be worried at all. I’m not yet ready! People have overlooked that I was in the middle of something that was occupying all my time and attention. I am thirty, but everyone is on his own life path and timetable. Being alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely, I can do my own thing without anybody snooping at me, I have all the freedom that a flying solo affords, and I finally have the opportunity to pursue more of my interests.
So when someone finally asks me how’s life treating me nowadays. I know just what to say, “I’m enjoying being single at 30, and loving it. “