There are only a handful of things that I feel I got right about my outlook on myself and my interests. It's proven by how sustained and unmoved the sentiments continue to be.
One of them is my love for New York, and how despite all the minor inconveniences and little bangs for your buck and how everyone is so annoyingly tethered to their careers... or, more recently, the oppression of community interwovenness seen by the pandemic and the anti-Asian violence-- I won't betray it. I've been consistently loyal in my feelings towards New York, though nowhere near as energetic about it as I was 8 years ago.
I've been indirectly told that my aloofness and ever changing relationship to material things, tastes, style, and preferences can be seen as a threat. As if I can just drop anyone or anything because I'll change my mind about them. I do get frustrated at myself, wishing I could be more consistent with my tastes, but my inspirations change with mood, maturity, and perspective, and I try to accept that. But I don't quite believe I'd go to abandonment when it comes to things I truly value. My relationship to the material world was stripped of value early on, for better or for worse, but that doesn't extend to everything in my life.
A more recent matter I realized I got right is about age. Specifically being in my 30s. Somehow, I knew that the third decade was going to be even better than my angsty, identity building 20s. People in their 30s are just way more attractive simply for having gone through their 20s and being over it. I love the calm acceptance of life's stressors and chaos. A seemingly better grip on challenges and ability to hold and carry it all, even though you're tired and even though you still cry at night. Being in your 30s is like the New Yorker's overused and ragged canvas tote bag. The new, clean canvas tote is just a phony.
In the same way people seem to react to not liking popular concepts or experiences (ie. the sun or being in nature), people may react to this: I've always been attracted to the gloomy nature of 30-somethings. To me, there is something cool about carrying weight without the need to announce any of it. And yet, they continue to strive for meaning, build on relationships, push towards milestones, support their friends/family, go to work, and find time to read books. Is there anything hotter than that? Strangely, I'm not sure I'd entirely feel the same about my 40s. I think that feels too real and I'm not ready for that. For now, I find myself staring into the faces of my long term relationships, feeling both a warmth of comfort in our aging bodies, and overcome by the striking reality of it that makes me reflect on where we started.
