So today is the last day I can say that I’m in my twenties. I’m 29! There, I said it one last time. Tomorrow I will be thirty! When my mother turned thirty, my dad threw a party for her. About halfway through the shindig, there was a house full of people (because she had a house when she was 30, but never mind, eyes on my own paper), but my mom was nowhere to be found. Finally, my dad went upstairs, and there was my mother, in her bedroom, frantically reading from a huge book. He was all, “?” and with tears in her voice, my mother earnestly said, “Do you realize that I am 30 years old and have never read Romeo and Juliet?”
And what do you say to that, really? Now, I’d like to think that I’d never let anything tear me away from a good party, but then again, I’ve read Romeo and Juliet. I’ve actually never read Hamlet, but that keeps me in good company with Beverly Cleary, another lone English major who’s never read the tale of the doomed Danish prince. Wait, Hamlet’s the Danish prince, yes? I know Macbeth’s the Scottish king, ’cause that’s what you call him in theaters unless you’re feeling particularly tired of self-important drama folk and want to piss them off.
So I guess despite my Hamlet-less life, I’m good with the Shakespeare. I played Bianca in Taming of the Shrew, I’ve taken multiple Shakespeare classes, and even read a ton of his stuff for my own edification! All of his sonnets. Random plays like Two Gentlemen of Verona, and that really boring one. What was it? Oh, Coriolanus. Thanks, Google.
Anyway, what was my point? Oh that’s right, I’m not sure I have one. Except to say that although I have read Romeo and Juliet, I feel like I should have a list of burning desires to fulfill. But if I were to make a list of things I’d like to do before I die, what would I put? I’ve bungee jumped. I’ve been to Germany, Greece, Turkey, Italy, the Caribbean, and most of the 50 states. I’ve been on a motorcycle. What other things do people put on their lists? Have a child, I guess. I would like to have one in the future, but not now, and it’s bad enough I’m relating to “Sex and the City,” I’m certainly not about to go all “Ally McBeal” with my life.
So I doubt I’ll come up with an awesome 30th birthday crisis to rival my mother’s Shakespearean meltdown. I suppose I’ll have to just take tomorrow as it comes, and be happy that I get to spend the night singing karaoke and hanging with my friends. I’ll be celebrating my birthday in the company of people I love, who love me back. And I guess that’s really worth more than a bunch of random activities I could put on a list.
But maybe I’ll read Romeo and Juliet again on Thursday, just to play it safe.
© August 30, 2005