|
|
June 4, 2004
Fast approaching the big 3-0
After a decade of uncertainty, trials and errors, this writer
is ready.
DANA GREENE SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
I have just a few more hours left of my 20s ... and I thought I'd
take some time to reflect upon this receding decade.
It started with a romance. There I was 20 years old and head over
heals for the first time with an Argentinean rabbi's son. He had
red hair and adorable freckles and together we toasted atop the
famous boudoir restaurant, Mr. A's, with its dark, ambient lighting
and burgundy plush velvet couches and décor.
Twenty-one was the year I lived in Spain, rode a motorcycle through
the tiny streets of Seville. It was also the time I smoked my first
Cuban cigar and drank quarente-tres right out of the bottle.
Like most 22-year-olds, I marched into the future as I said goodbye
to the college I had come to love in upstate New York. But then
I procrastinated by delaying the inevitable "real world,"
deciding to play it safe by getting another degree – this time
in the nation's capital.
Did I know myself then? Who I wanted to be? What I wanted to accomplish?
I thought I did. In fact, I thought I had many if not all the answers.
Washington, D.C., was a tough place to be on one's own, but I quickly
learned the back streets and how to survive beltway traffic. I learned
to wear makeup. That was a huge step. First day on the job my news
director told me not to come back until I'd been to the Lancôme
makeup counter at Nordstrom.
I started running among the monuments from my red brick Georgetown
rental to the top of the capital stair. I'd run one way and take
a cab back with a quick Gatorade stop on Pennsylvania Avenue. And
I thought I was cool. But what did I know?
At 23, I had a master's degree, a new television job, a puppy and
a rental in Coos Bay, Ore. Where? I learned where that was too.
And I had my first real love. He was older, but we balanced each
other out and the May-December relationship blossomed. He provided
me with romance, career support and stability and I provided him
with youthful endeavors. It was a trade off and looking back I have
no regrets and regard this period fondly.
Living in Coos Bay, I discovered another side of myself – the
side that enjoys nature. Weekends were spent hiking, exploring monumental
sand dunes, local beaches, rivers and waterfalls, clamming in minus
tides, picking wild blackberries for breakfast and just getting
to know my comfort level of aloneness.
But then came 25 and a career move to Pennsylvania, the coal belt
of the east. The news director who hired me was bumped, and I was
left with a brand new boss and no cameraman. There were lies and
more lies and even more lies. And I gained an insider's perspective
on the "great" career I had chosen. I learned you're only
as good as your last story. And you've got to be either a backstabber,
or incredibly selfish and nasty, to make it. Since I was neither,
I packed up and midway through 26 moved back to Washington where
a career in ghost writing novels awaited. I soon learned "ghosting"
wasn't my thing, nor was public relations, which I tried for a firm
in Bethesda.
The new boyfriend wasn't "my thing" either. I had fallen
in love with my eyes rather than my head. And I learned how the
heart can rationalize anything.
After Sept. 11 and nearing 28, I decided to move once more –
this time to the safety of my California home town. I wanted to
make a change, switch careers, forget about mean roommates and ugly
breakups. I wanted to grow wiser and gain more control over my own
surroundings.
I've been doing that these last two years ... working on myself,
trying to polish my rough spots. It takes work everyday, but one
day hopefully soon it will all come together and be worth the effort.
While religion hasn't been paramount in my 20s, nonetheless, I have
taken classes, attended Jewish lectures and even emceed a few synagogue
programs. I've tried to broaden my interests by volunteering on
Jewish social action committees. I see it as a slow, but steady
evolution reinforcing my Jewish roots.
Besides having to actually say I'm 30, I feel no different ... well,
maybe better. I'm excited about heading into my 30s. Most of my
friends, who are older than me, say the 30s are much better than
the 20s and that one doesn't have to deal with the varying vicissitudes.
We'll see. I know I have a lot to accomplish this decade, starting
with a new career in counselling, which I hope I'll like. I also
have more writing to do. I'd like to have one more beautiful, strong
romance that will last forever.
Physically, I look better than I did when I was 21 and, I'm told,
younger than most women of my age. My eyes certainly haven't developed
those awful (I won't even say the word), nor do I have any forehead
wrinkles. My butt is still firm. Breasts are still perky and small.
Oh well, can't change anything there.
So all in all, I'm thrilled to be celebrating this milestone year,
content to be leaving the 20s and ready to discover the tomorrow.
After a decade of uncertainty, trials and errors, do I know myself
better? Who I want to be? What I want to accomplish? I think I do
and I'm ready for it. So life – bring it on!
Dana Greene is an award-winning columnist based in San
Diego. All singles have a story to tell. What's your story? Contact
Single Situations at dgreene74@ aol.com.
^TOP
|
|
