Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
I'm a 29-year-old New Yorker who inherited this site from my pal, Holly P., to document the final year of my twenties. Right up until I turn the big 3-0 next January, I'll use this blog to indulge my inner-narcissist by voicing the good (I can date men anywhere from ages 21 to 50 without it being scandalous) the bad (I keep getting ma'amed) and the ugly (is it possible to get cellulite on your stomach?!). Here's to waving goodbye to my youth, accepting adulthood and remembering that every ending is really just a new beginning.
the photo for June 11, 2007
DAY 133  |  June 11, 2007
It doesnít get anymore Ďrealí than this: Riding the crowded L train into the city during morning rush hour to rejoin the working world. I forgot what if felt like to pressed up against all these strangers, how the smell of sweat invades my nose and the whizzing sound of the train on the tracks vibrates in my ears. Iíve been back for a little over a week and my empty bank account has already forced me to pound the pavement. So I took on a freelance-editing gig for the next couple of weeks.

Sitting in front of a computer in a sterile cubicle for eight hours straight takes a little getting used to, to say the least. I feel like the previous months of sleeping in a hut in Kenya without electricity and meditating in an ashram in India was nothing but a dream. Well, my reality check is crashing down all around me.

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