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Yesterday I turned thirty. I don't really feel thirty. It sounds older than it is to me (not that I think people who are thirty are old). I still feel twenty-five.

I've been reflecting on the last decade and a lot has happened. I made friends for life, traveled and studied abroad, had a few failed relationships (thank goodness!), lived in a big city, graduated college with a respectable degree, lived in a small town, moved back home with my parents (and then moved out on my own again), met my future husband, moved across the country, fell in love with the West, became a small business owner, became a licensed architect, and developed a really clear picture of how I want the next decade to be.

I can't help but have an enthusiastic view on what my thirties will be like. My twenties were fun, but I spent a lot of time doing what I thought was supposed to do. And maybe it just seemed completely logical. And that's okay, I think. Following my dreams once meant just accomplishing great things, sometimes regardless of whether or not I felt especially driven to complete them. Now, I have a solid goal that is all my own, and I am driven. Pedal to the metal, driven. I have a feeling that the goal will evolve a little, as goals should. But the big picture is crystalline.

The weirdest part of turning thirty? I can no longer say I'm in my twenties.