Someone (you, jerk, will remain nameless) recently pointed out that soon I won’t be able to continue publishing blog posts as a “twenty-something” idler anymore. Gee, thanks.
As if I wasn’t already kind of grimacing at the thought of an entirely new decade (that will no doubt go by faster than the last), now I realize just how wide the scope of that event’s aftermath will reach. Can I really keep justifying why I watch Snooki and JWOWW? Can I use a hangover as an excuse to lay low for days on end? Can cheat days really be as gluttunous as they used to be? And seriously… if you think that’s dramatic, just imagine how bad it could get come that time.
But here’s where it gets interesting. As I think about changing the blog’s subtitle to thirty something (or heck, just leaving it and throwing up deuces), I also realize that I can no longer call myself an idler. That’s my word for freelancer. Not that I idle, ever, but something about freelancing makes you feel like idle, in life, when you’re not facing a deadline. You’ve got freedom of time, freedom to watch TV or research stories. You’ve got power of the calendar and power over your alarm clock. All things, I would have sworn I’d never trade in.
I never thought I’d accomplish certain things in my life, nonetheless by the age of 30, but as a freelancer, I had pretty much settled into the fact that this was what I’d be doing forever, so other than getting published in the Collection of America’s Best Magazine Writing, I didn’t feel an urgent sense to accomplish much else. (Gosh that sounds Slacker-inspired, huh?) So, when I was hired as Editor of Points North Magazine, life and it’s goals became a major player once again.
I do feel like I just (finally!) got comfortable in my role as a freelancer, confident proclaiming that as my career, my profession, something I was good at and deserved to get paid to do. I finally finished organizing my home office (thanks to a lot of Pinterest organization pins) and I was busy planning the next quarter of events, pitches and passions. Plus, I had just decided to start watching Girls, so free time was really already spoken for.
But you know what? I got offered a job as an editor of a magazine, and as a journalism major, that’s huge. I won’t speak for all of you out there, but it’s pretty much the ultimate job in our field, and it definitely is for me (until I write a novel that bumps Donna Tartt). And to the shock of all my friends and family (most certainly my husband), waking up to an alarm clock again didn’t even
threaten cross my mind.
I am ecstatic to start this new journey, in a new decade, with a fresh, new, evolving look on life, my community and my readers. I join a team of seasoned individuals who have honed the trade of writing to a small and diverse audience – not a national publication, but relatively speaking, so treasured as one. I’m honored they want me to fill the shoes of one talented momma and have her grace as an editor to thank for the confidence I have going in. I hope you’ll all immediately sign up for subscriptions and start following the magazine on every outlet of social media. And, I hope you’ll still read my freelance work.
So, now how do I feel about turning 30? Still grossed out, panicked and feel an insidious sense of “get up and hurry,” but I also feel like, hey, this is way farther than I thought I’d be, with plenty of time to enjoy it, so don’t take Girls off the queue just yet.