Review: 30 Things To Do Before 30
I remember it dawning on me the summer I turned 21, just before my last year of undergrad: I wasn’t going to meet anyone.
Life wasn’t turning out at all how I had planned.
I assumed I would meet Mr. Right, graduate, get a job, get married, and live happily ever after. I imagined living in a trendy neighborhood, with cool coffee shops, where I could ride public transportation to work every day. I would get a job doing good, like fighting human trafficking, and at the end of the day I’d come home and make dinner with my lovely, handsome, equally motivated husband. (Okay I'll be honest--I'm a disaster in the kitchen. So my dream was me watching my lovely, handsome, equally motivated husband cook.)
I thought I’d have it all together. But it really felt like everything was falling apart.
I turned 21 and triggered some internal warning system I didn’t realize I had. The alarm screaming in my head, told me that I was running out of time to figure it all out. Maybe it was the growing pile of wedding invitations on the corner of my dresser. Maybe it was the promise of pending school loan repayments. Or maybe it was the constantly flowing stream of job rejection letters. (Why, oh why did I fill every elective taking Art History classes?—Why hadn’t I done something practical, like study business?) Dreams of trendy downtown living quickly eroded as I faced the fact that I would have to move back home and live with my parents.
The vision versus the reality was devastating. I was drowning in a sea of disappointed hopes, filled by a lifetime of childhood daydreams and societal expectations. How do you take the next step when the step isn’t there?
It was then I realized I was just floating through life, letting the current of stronger waters push me toward...whatever. I didn’t make things happen so much as I let them happen to me. Go to school; graduate high school, go to college; finish undergrad in four years, and move onto real life—career, marriage, family. I was handed my diploma and suddenly, there was a yawning gap between 21 and 30.
In an uncharacteristically gumption-filled moment for my 21-year-old self, probably moments after crying about a job rejection and a crush getting married, I decided I was done having life happen to me. I was not going to melt into the puddle of my tears. It was time to start over, to set new goals and reframe my expectations.
I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a man. I didn’t have a clue. The only thing I knew for sure was that there were things I wanted to do and places I wanted to see. Hence the 30 Things To Do Before 30 list was born. Long before buckets lists became popular, I started an epic to-do list for my 20s. As its title would suggest, the list was a compilation of 30 things. They ranged from trying sushi to skydiving to paying off my school loans.
The only rule? These adventures couldn’t depend on anyone else. They were things that had to be accomplished solo. Other people could be involved, but “get married” and “have kids” were not allowed on the list.
Some adventures worked out great: I visited my college roommate in the Adirondacks and got to climb a mountain. I also kissed center ice at Lake Placid, home of the 1980 miracle on ice.
Others took time, like finding a job I actually liked. I toiled in retail at major risk to my sanity. I worked a front desk reception job that paid just above minimum wage. At 27, I finally found a job I liked, then immediately lost it due to an organizational restructure--but not before they paid for my MBA.
I learned to always keep your resume up to date, always keep an eye on jobs that are out there, and remember that you can’t control everything. I learned firsthand to never burn your bridges--every job I’ve had since that restructure has been with former supervisors. I moved across the country because an old manager liked my work ethic and recommended me for a position; I was offered a freelance gig by another former employer for the same reason.
Some things seemed so far beyond my reach they mocked me, like fly an airplane. I was working for just above minimum wage, barely keeping up with bills, and convinced I'd never get out of my parents' basement. There was no way I could afford flying lessons. And then suddenly in a series of unexpected events, the summer I turned 25, I found myself flying with world-renowned aerobatic pilot Sean Tucker and his team. We flew their entire show routine, then broke off for private flying lessons. I did a spin. I did a barrel roll. We pulled negative G’s. We pulled positive G’s. Just like that, out of the blue, mission accomplished. I was so focused on flying lessons, it never occurred to me that there was another way. None of those things would have happened in a flying lesson. The experience was so far above and beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and ranks as one of the most amazing moments in my life.
There are a few items I didn’t get to cross off the list: Like that trip to Italy to see Florence and Brunelleschi's Dome. I didn’t get my school loans paid off by 30, but thanks to a freelance gig, the end is in sight at long last.
When I look back at that high-strung 21-year-old that was me, I wish I could give her some advice. I would tell her: Relax. Things aren’t in your control and they will not go the way you planned. It’s okay. Because your future well-adjusted self would like to tell you this: Things turn out better than you planned. First of all, it turns out you love sushi. Second, your life looks nothing like those childhood dreams, and believe it or not, you’re okay with that. You live in the desert, you’re still single. Sadly, you still don’t have a horse. But your car is paid off, you can kill spiders all by yourself, and you have great hair. Seriously, the desert climate has been amazing for your hair. (Also: so sorry to tell you this, but you were not cast in any Star Wars sequels.)
My 30 Things To Do Before 30 list changed my life. It took my focus off of what I didn’t have and turned it to what was in my power to accomplish. Instead of simply observing life, I began also participating in life. At 21, I expected life to show up packaged and tied with a neat bow. Looking back now, I know better. There is no such thing as the perfect life, but there is such a thing as a good life and I believe it’s closely linked to adventure. It’s not always pretty. The GPS of your life is constantly alerting you that it’s recalculating, or telling you to navigate off-road. The good life doesn’t follow any set itinerary. And that’s the one I want. That’s the life I choose.
Stop waiting for everything to fall into place and get out there and start living.
Life wasn’t turning out at all how I had planned.
I assumed I would meet Mr. Right, graduate, get a job, get married, and live happily ever after. I imagined living in a trendy neighborhood, with cool coffee shops, where I could ride public transportation to work every day. I would get a job doing good, like fighting human trafficking, and at the end of the day I’d come home and make dinner with my lovely, handsome, equally motivated husband. (Okay I'll be honest--I'm a disaster in the kitchen. So my dream was me watching my lovely, handsome, equally motivated husband cook.)
I thought I’d have it all together. But it really felt like everything was falling apart.
I turned 21 and triggered some internal warning system I didn’t realize I had. The alarm screaming in my head, told me that I was running out of time to figure it all out. Maybe it was the growing pile of wedding invitations on the corner of my dresser. Maybe it was the promise of pending school loan repayments. Or maybe it was the constantly flowing stream of job rejection letters. (Why, oh why did I fill every elective taking Art History classes?—Why hadn’t I done something practical, like study business?) Dreams of trendy downtown living quickly eroded as I faced the fact that I would have to move back home and live with my parents.
The vision versus the reality was devastating. I was drowning in a sea of disappointed hopes, filled by a lifetime of childhood daydreams and societal expectations. How do you take the next step when the step isn’t there?
It was then I realized I was just floating through life, letting the current of stronger waters push me toward...whatever. I didn’t make things happen so much as I let them happen to me. Go to school; graduate high school, go to college; finish undergrad in four years, and move onto real life—career, marriage, family. I was handed my diploma and suddenly, there was a yawning gap between 21 and 30.
In an uncharacteristically gumption-filled moment for my 21-year-old self, probably moments after crying about a job rejection and a crush getting married, I decided I was done having life happen to me. I was not going to melt into the puddle of my tears. It was time to start over, to set new goals and reframe my expectations.
I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a man. I didn’t have a clue. The only thing I knew for sure was that there were things I wanted to do and places I wanted to see. Hence the 30 Things To Do Before 30 list was born. Long before buckets lists became popular, I started an epic to-do list for my 20s. As its title would suggest, the list was a compilation of 30 things. They ranged from trying sushi to skydiving to paying off my school loans.
The only rule? These adventures couldn’t depend on anyone else. They were things that had to be accomplished solo. Other people could be involved, but “get married” and “have kids” were not allowed on the list.
Some adventures worked out great: I visited my college roommate in the Adirondacks and got to climb a mountain. I also kissed center ice at Lake Placid, home of the 1980 miracle on ice.
Others took time, like finding a job I actually liked. I toiled in retail at major risk to my sanity. I worked a front desk reception job that paid just above minimum wage. At 27, I finally found a job I liked, then immediately lost it due to an organizational restructure--but not before they paid for my MBA.
I learned to always keep your resume up to date, always keep an eye on jobs that are out there, and remember that you can’t control everything. I learned firsthand to never burn your bridges--every job I’ve had since that restructure has been with former supervisors. I moved across the country because an old manager liked my work ethic and recommended me for a position; I was offered a freelance gig by another former employer for the same reason.
Some things seemed so far beyond my reach they mocked me, like fly an airplane. I was working for just above minimum wage, barely keeping up with bills, and convinced I'd never get out of my parents' basement. There was no way I could afford flying lessons. And then suddenly in a series of unexpected events, the summer I turned 25, I found myself flying with world-renowned aerobatic pilot Sean Tucker and his team. We flew their entire show routine, then broke off for private flying lessons. I did a spin. I did a barrel roll. We pulled negative G’s. We pulled positive G’s. Just like that, out of the blue, mission accomplished. I was so focused on flying lessons, it never occurred to me that there was another way. None of those things would have happened in a flying lesson. The experience was so far above and beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and ranks as one of the most amazing moments in my life.
There are a few items I didn’t get to cross off the list: Like that trip to Italy to see Florence and Brunelleschi's Dome. I didn’t get my school loans paid off by 30, but thanks to a freelance gig, the end is in sight at long last.
When I look back at that high-strung 21-year-old that was me, I wish I could give her some advice. I would tell her: Relax. Things aren’t in your control and they will not go the way you planned. It’s okay. Because your future well-adjusted self would like to tell you this: Things turn out better than you planned. First of all, it turns out you love sushi. Second, your life looks nothing like those childhood dreams, and believe it or not, you’re okay with that. You live in the desert, you’re still single. Sadly, you still don’t have a horse. But your car is paid off, you can kill spiders all by yourself, and you have great hair. Seriously, the desert climate has been amazing for your hair. (Also: so sorry to tell you this, but you were not cast in any Star Wars sequels.)
My 30 Things To Do Before 30 list changed my life. It took my focus off of what I didn’t have and turned it to what was in my power to accomplish. Instead of simply observing life, I began also participating in life. At 21, I expected life to show up packaged and tied with a neat bow. Looking back now, I know better. There is no such thing as the perfect life, but there is such a thing as a good life and I believe it’s closely linked to adventure. It’s not always pretty. The GPS of your life is constantly alerting you that it’s recalculating, or telling you to navigate off-road. The good life doesn’t follow any set itinerary. And that’s the one I want. That’s the life I choose.
Comments
Post a Comment