Today is my 30th birthday.

I’m sure that the 8 year-old me thought that I would have conquered my wanderlust, tamed my daydreams or reined in my creativity by 2005. But I haven’t. I still get lost in stories (mine as well as those of others), am reduced to tears by the cuteness and curiosity of life and involuntarily blush at everything imaginable. Eight year-old me probably would wonder why I still have tamed my wild hair, too.

While I thought that I was supposed to have everything figured out by now, I don’t. In bed this morning, I stared at the ceiling like I used to when I was 8, and realised that honestly, except for having better fashion sense and a bigger vocabulary, not much has changed.

Although what does get sweeter is the way that whenever someone does remember your birthday and you weren’t expecting it, there is nothing but joy in your heart.

The past few technologically-challenged days have been full of birthday celebrations (I held a kickball cookout with a dear friend whose birthday is tomorrow) and many many grilled vegetarian products and even more cups of coffee. Yesterday I got back to nature and was mauled by mosquitos sitting outside in my friends backyard, and was thankful later on to be inside working on some charity newborn hats that I hadn’t finished.

As I woke up feeling ill this morning, I’m not going out on the town (something that the 20-something me holds in disbelief) but staying in and making stuff. Here’s to a new decade, another birthday and much more joy.

xo