The Panic Button

So, I've officially been unwell for 18 months...compounding this painful reality is the fact that today, the 15th of May, I officially enter my 30th year of existence.

In addition to the fact that women are officially branded "old" at the end of this year--and I am a woman--I have also become painfully aware in recent months of how little a foundation I really have in life.  I have no money; I've built no career.  My family is fraying away on the opposite side of the planet.  I feel like I screwed something up somewhere along the way, but I'm too distraught by the passage of time to know what it is.

I wish I had another 10 years to figure out what I wanna be when I grow up.  There are about ten years' worth of stuff I still wanna do (teach English on the commune, learn Chinese and Khmer and Arabic, spend a summer at World Fellowship Center, stop Climate Change, go on safari, and establish global dominion), and I still feel like I'm about 20.  Don't you think it's fair that I should get an extra ten years of "stasis" after which I can finally turn 30?  The flow of time is starting to freak me out.  Big time.

REALITY, WHY WON'T YOU BEND TO MY WILL???

(To the time machine!)