The Age of Carrie

I need to start by saying that I was not looking forward to my birthday. At 32 I think you've lived long enough now to actually look back and truly digest certain moments, experiences and lessons your life. I can see the landmarks, the bumps, the scrapes, the wounds that still pulse ever so slightly at times and the scars that mark strength and bravery.

Yes I am old. It's not the old of twenty five when you say you're old, you feel but you're not really old. At 32 you feel old and are old. I wouldn't say it's depressing or anything. It's just a fact.

I've always secretly wanted to be famous. Who doesn't crave a certain need for attention? That secret longing for acknowledgment and recognition from adoring strangers. Living in New York was tough because America is so youth-obsessed. It's so easy to feel like a failure when compared to a Rihanna, a Pharell, a Mark Ronson, a MisShapes, a Heatherette, a Zac Posen, A Natalie Portman....

When Sex and The City began, Sarah Jessica Parker (Carrie) was 32. For almost ten years a loyal fan base has followed every move Carrie and her friends have made. At 32 I know I'm still a work in progress and I am totally grateful for that. Goals become more nuanced, subtle. Maybe fame is not as important as happiness? My desire to "run away" aka "I really want to travel!" has been slowly replaced by a tiny wish to grow some roots somewhere. I feel more in my skin than ever, more aware of the kinks, the exhaustion but also the elation and the wonder...

I feel like I'm getting better at just sifting through the bullshit, taking what I need, laughing when I can and enjoying my friends more. Happiness is definitely more of a consistent state and not a fleeting one. Not bad as I enter the Age of Carrie...