Thirty

I did it. I turned 30. I was waiting for some huge epiphany about what it means to be an adult, who I am and what my purpose is to hit me this weekend. It didn’t. I did have a lot of fun though, and that’s just as important.

The best birthday gift I received this weekend was from my 15-year-old self in the form of a letter that I wrote on October 28th, 1992. Let me bring you back to that Monday almost 15 years ago. It was one day before the Clinton/Perot/Bush election. I was a sophomore at Berkeley High, my brother had been born one month earlier, I was dating a boy named Harlan, and my social living teacher gave her students the assignment of writing a letter and placing it in a sealed, stamped envelope, which she would then keep in her files and send on the date indicated.

My letter arrived in Berkeley earlier this week. Mom over-nighted to Brooklyn in time for me to read it out loud at my birthday party on Saturday. It’s four pages long, way too long to include on the blog, but it starts off like this:

“Dear 30-year-old Audrey, Happy Birthday. Wow, you’re old. So, how is my life now? It’s so far off, I can’t even contemplate. Am I married? Do I have kids? Am I married to Harlan? I don’t know, I don’t care if I’m not married yet, but I hope I’ve started my career as an English teacher.”

It includes my comments on politics:

“How is the U.S.? I’ll bet it’s gone to shambles! I’ll bet violence has gotten pretty bad, not to mention money [I think I meant the economy]. Who’s president now? Everyone I know is voting for Clinton tomorrow, he had better win.”

On fashion:

“What clothes are in style now? I’ll bet they’re ugly. Now I wear baggy jeans, V-neck T-shirts and leotards. Ribbed shirts are in, but I think they’re ugly.”

My take on being a teenager:

“Being a teenager sucks (of course) but fifteen’s not that bad, I mean it’s tolerable anyhow. I’m generally happy. Of course I’m depressed once in a while, but isn’t everyone? Usually my mood depends on who I talk to at school and whether or not this guy, Christian, flirts with me or not. He hasn’t in a while, it’s very depressing. Yes, I know, I have a boyfriend, it’s just the principle of the thing.”

And a P.S. to sum up my frame of mind at 15:

“I’m very pacifistic, I think clothes are dumb and I love Berkeley. I just got four cavities (frowny face).”

And the rest of the letter is about how good looking I was. Well, at least I had a positive self-image.