Saturday Night Live or It Gets Better

Live from my house...It's Saturday NIGHT....

In that mug? Hot Cider
On that plate? A slice of chocolate chip banana bread (long since eaten)
On the computer? Self Explanatory (I am on Season 8. Lenny Briscoe- I love you.)







My younger reader(s) may look at this post and think I am being snarky or ironic. Or think this is part of my whole "My life is boring, what on earth do I have to blog about" schtick. But my dears, I say with complete and utter honesty- I am in HEAVEN. There is nothing I would rather be doing right now- curled up on my couch with my dogs, kid asleep upstairs, husband watching some sporting recap or something in the basement.

I seriously want to make a series of "It Gets Better" videos for twenty-somethings, especially early twenty-somethings, of all sexual orientations. Because my twenties was so full of DRAMA and ANGST. Don't get me wrong, it was a ton of fun. But there was so much pressure for all that fun. So much pressure on EVERYTHING. I always felt like I should be doing MORE- socially, romantically, artistically, financially.  I was always looking for what was next, wanting things to be better, faster, more beautiful, which of course sometimes lead to worse, slower, uglier. And damn I was tired.

I wouldn't trade that time in my life for anything, made me who I am. But this...now...ahhh. I earned this.

I don't feel the need to impress people anymore. I'm in my thirties so I don't have to know what's new, what's hot, what's happening. If I do, people are impressed. If I don't, no one is surprised.

I don't have to traipse around in heels and a short skirt in the freezing cold or rain to go to some party to meet/hang out with/hook up with/fight/make-up with the person I love. He's in the basement. He's not going anywhere. We can do that on our own schedule, ideally when the weather is nice. And we WILL go home together. And I WILL get lucky.

I can have a cocktail or two to take the edge off, not drink to get me through the night.
I can eat dinner AND have a dessert and not freak out about the scale and my bank account.
I can smoke a cigarette and..oh wait... No.I can't. I do miss that. Not gonna lie.  But other than that..

My thirties RULE. Maybe this sounds awful to you. And I respect that. This is not your path. Rock and roll, my friend.  But if you are a closet introvert like I was, I have this to say..

It gets better. I promise. Hang in there. I put in my time and now I am proof. I am living the dream.