On Turning 30

You know what? Who fucking cares. What's important is that I can pick some shit to play on my iPod and it makes me sing to the empty streets and dance in my kitchen. What makes sense is that someone can tell me to meet them at El Rio in an hour and I can make it there to enjoy the first night that feels like summer in a long time. What makes sense is that I need to do what's right for me - only me. I don't need to continue to take care of people who don't know what the fuck they have in front of them. This city is amazing. The people I know are amazing. I am amazing. You're either in or you're out. And I'm not even trying to quote Heidi Klum.

What matters is that I'm living the life that I wanted to live when I thought about thirty at sixteen. What matters is that I've found myself in the streets of Oakland, of the Panhandle, of the Mission. And as Okkervil River says, "If you don't love me, I'm sorry." And I truly am. Because people come and go - and the ones that go don't matter in the long run.

You know, you get past my thick skin and you should know it's an achievement. You should know I shut almost everyone else out - and you should feel like you've won the lottery. And you should handle my squishy insides with care. People don't - and what I've learned is to not harden the outer shell. I've learned to enjoy the feeling of falling as I let them in, and to allow more people in.

So take me I'm yours, morning starship.