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 13, 2007
DAY 135  |  June 13, 2007
The tough thing about writing a daily blog is that everything makes sense (or at least becomes bearable) with a little distance and perspective. But right now, all I want is an emotional painkiller. Actually, I could use a whole freaking bottle. After a year apart, E is moving to LA to go after his acting career.

Intellectually, I agree that this is the right move for him to make while he’s still young and determined. Emotionally, I want to curl up in a little ball and pretend it isn’t happening. We’ve been packing up his stuff as we’re unpacking mine. There are few things worse than sorting through all your old memories—the photographs, the scrapbooks, the letters—and knowing that our story spanning across four and a half years is coming to an end. Between looking for work, adjusting to being back in the States and enduring a break up, the only thing I can do to keep it together is keep the faith. I have to believe that everything happens for a reason (as cliché as it sounds) because I’ve got nothing solid to hold onto. But hey, if I can make through this, I can make it through anything, right?

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