As I'm writing this I have about an hour and 45 minutes left in my 20's here on the East Coast. And I realized I'd be remiss if I let my 30th birthday approach without talking about tick, tick...BOOM! (And there's no way in heck I'm gonna write that all out in this entry, so TTB it is.)
#OkayEmily but what is TTB? You know how I ranted and raved about RENT through college? TTB is the thing Jonathan Larson wrote BEFORE RENT. It's basically this autobiographical, originally one-man-show Larson wrote about his struggles as an artist approaching the great 3-0. In the opener, he sings about turning 30 being more like turning 90. You become passe. "Bang, you're dead, what can you do?"
Okay, but seriously here. One of my work friends is gay and insists that when gay men turn 30, they expire. (He insists lesbians never do.) Despite the advances we've made as a society, we still see 30 as this huge turning point where we leave the confusion of our 20's behind and we become more secure, more settled.
So what does that mean for me? In short...haha, not a lot is changing.
I think what I'm taking into 30 is this notion of not wanting to play games anymore. By that, I don't mean, "I'm going to quit my job and become a musician full-time." That's never going to happen, but not because I'm old. It's because that's not what I want. It's what everybody else wanted. So yeah, I'm pretty much over that. I'm still going to make music, but on my own terms, as something that can be shared instead of something that only exists to be sold. I got close to that dream a couple of times, and every time I abandoned it because anything worth making was anything worth sold...or so I once believed.
30 means I let go of old beliefs. This means:
Throughout TTB, Jon (the main character) goes through his daily life of waitering at day, writing music for a musical at night. He works his butt off, does a workshop, nobody notices. His long-term girlfriend gets fed up and leaves. His best friend reveals he's HIV-positive, which in the 90's is a death sentence. Totally exhaustive and kind of effed-up, he heads to Central Park and sing-plays his way out of his own funk in what is actually kind of a mission statement song of my own:
Next day before his birthday party, he gets a call from Stephen Sondheim (yes, THAT dude). They talk for a bit, and nothing is certain, but he has hope. And at the end, he's able to blow out his 30th birthday candles and move forward. 30 isn't a death sentence. I think it's truly the beginning of when we can do something really cool with our lives.
After all...Jesus didn't start His ministry until 30. :D
So that's it for now. I guess I'll see you all on the other side, where nothing will have changed and I'll still be my awesome Emily self, just even more awesome.
#OkayEmily but what is TTB? You know how I ranted and raved about RENT through college? TTB is the thing Jonathan Larson wrote BEFORE RENT. It's basically this autobiographical, originally one-man-show Larson wrote about his struggles as an artist approaching the great 3-0. In the opener, he sings about turning 30 being more like turning 90. You become passe. "Bang, you're dead, what can you do?"
Okay, but seriously here. One of my work friends is gay and insists that when gay men turn 30, they expire. (He insists lesbians never do.) Despite the advances we've made as a society, we still see 30 as this huge turning point where we leave the confusion of our 20's behind and we become more secure, more settled.
So what does that mean for me? In short...haha, not a lot is changing.
I think what I'm taking into 30 is this notion of not wanting to play games anymore. By that, I don't mean, "I'm going to quit my job and become a musician full-time." That's never going to happen, but not because I'm old. It's because that's not what I want. It's what everybody else wanted. So yeah, I'm pretty much over that. I'm still going to make music, but on my own terms, as something that can be shared instead of something that only exists to be sold. I got close to that dream a couple of times, and every time I abandoned it because anything worth making was anything worth sold...or so I once believed.
30 means I let go of old beliefs. This means:
- My music is no longer something to be taken by other people. It is made first for God, and then for me, and then for other people.
- Nothing gets in the way of my relationship with Jesus. Nobody gets to dictate how I spend my relationship with Jesus, what I specifically have to do to get to Him, or what I should and shouldn't do at church.
- My musical talent is not for you to use. Let me repeat this one: MY MUSICAL TALENT IS NOT FOR YOU TO USE. It gets used when and how I want to, and I can stop at any time if I feel that I am being manipulated to anybody's liking that is outside of my comfort zone, making me stress out too much, or the situation is against my moral code.
- Relationships are something that develop long-term. While the idea of destiny and love at first sight is something that is best left up to God, you have to show up every day to a relationship and give it your all. Those who do not do not get a relationship at all, and I am completely and utterly through being everybody's manic pixie Dragster girl.
- On that note: God defines who I am as Top Thrill Dragster. Nobody else does. NOBODY ELSE DOES. (There will be further notes on this.)
- I cannot be cured of my oddities (not only the cult of the mind that I have rewritten, but my synesthesia and misophonia in particular). Instead of wishing they could go away, I find ways to cope and embrace them. I firmly believe that my sense-melding puts me somewhere on the spectrum, but too vague to be diagnosed or namely treated.
- I'm so incredibly my orientation and just because I'm dating a dude does not change that. I'm over you trying to define me for me. I can do that just fine, thank you. I'm also ready for any consequences that may come with that, because I spent my 20's reconciling myself with the people who truly matter and care for me. They love me as I am.
- While I understand that fear will always be there, and anxiety will always be a running thought in my mind, I don't have to try to completely eliminate it to get over it.
- Code Red and Chef Boyardee are so not a thing anymore. (Sorry, 17-year old me. They're a sometimes food!)
- The things I want, I can do at any age. I don't have to accomplish it all in my 20's, or even in my 30's. I became a J-Pop idol at age 29. And I still really want to form a worship band, no matter what God wants that to look like. (I know He will deliver me somewhere that heals and gives me the strength and peace I need.) I'm not giving up on what my soul has really wanted all along.
- I am, however, giving up on the following: staying stick-thin; conveniently forgetting to eat to keep my calorie count low; letting Forever 21 dictate my style choice; feeling bad for not watching (insert show here) when I don't have time; shaming myself for self-inserting myself into just about every dang storyline I like (Bemani, I'm looking at you); sleeping 4-6 hours a night; letting abusive people get in the way of what's mine (RENT, writing, Cedar Point, music, etc).
Throughout TTB, Jon (the main character) goes through his daily life of waitering at day, writing music for a musical at night. He works his butt off, does a workshop, nobody notices. His long-term girlfriend gets fed up and leaves. His best friend reveals he's HIV-positive, which in the 90's is a death sentence. Totally exhaustive and kind of effed-up, he heads to Central Park and sing-plays his way out of his own funk in what is actually kind of a mission statement song of my own:
Next day before his birthday party, he gets a call from Stephen Sondheim (yes, THAT dude). They talk for a bit, and nothing is certain, but he has hope. And at the end, he's able to blow out his 30th birthday candles and move forward. 30 isn't a death sentence. I think it's truly the beginning of when we can do something really cool with our lives.
After all...Jesus didn't start His ministry until 30. :D
So that's it for now. I guess I'll see you all on the other side, where nothing will have changed and I'll still be my awesome Emily self, just even more awesome.