That's supposed to mean something. I'm 30. The trouble is, I don't put a lot of stock in numbers. If I'm counting dollars, or measuring ingredients, numbers are important. If I want to be on time for the 3:15 showing of Hamlet, numbers are important. But if I'm measuring maturity or trying to put some kind of value on a life, numbers are irrelevant. Because time is subjective.
I could make sit here and make a list of all the numbers in my life (5 years married, 3 countries lived in, 3 blah's and/or 3 yadda's) but they wouldn't mean anything. I see those kinds of numbers as interesting bits of trivia, not as mile markers (because the point of mile markers is to give context to the journey or to designate progress made towards a destination).
In these thirty years I've had seasons of arrested development* and times of incredible, unprecedented growth. I've experienced more joy, elation, and downright glee** in a single day than some people have their entire life. I've also experienced dark days of loneliness and aimless nights staring at the ceiling wondering "why?" I've had fulfillment and I've had unfulfillment. I've seen justice and injustice. I've been incredibly spoiled and I've had to make tough decisions. I've been loved and I've been mocked.
Everything that I've experienced these past thirty years don't make me 30. They make me me. The fact that it's taken me thirty years to become me makes me thirty, but I'm not even sure what that means. I just know that I've generally enjoyed these thirty and would like a second (or even third) thirty to see what other things I could get up to.
* Not to be confused with the three seasons of Arrested Development, though I did enjoy those too.
** Not to be confused with musical television show Glee, though I've experienced a lot more of that than some people have.