Nobody likes getting old. No one wants to wake up and suddenly realise they're no longer the youthful, hope-for-the-future rapscallion with sparkly eyes and grandiose dreams. What is there to look forward to about growing up? Responsibilities? Bills? Meaningless jobs? As a child I used to look at my parents (probably while putting crayons in my nostrils) and silently agree to myself that I would never turn into one of those boring adult creatures; that I wouldn't sit around having conversations about the news and where to buy curtains from. Nuts to that, right? However, now that I've turned thirty, I can see the upside to all this maturing and developing. As a child/teenager/young adult there's a substantial amount of social weight you carry on your shoulders. You're still finding out about your skills and limitations. The cliques and groups you run with mean everything so there's pressure to make sure you fit in, because you haven't yet evolved into the apathetic creature who's stopped trying to impress the world. It's not so bad turning thirty. I don't know how it is for many of you, but when I reached this epoch in my life, I found myself secretly pleased with how little I gave two stuttering turds about.
