how old I felt when I turned 25. It was like entering into a new era of...yeah what?
And how often did I think  to myself: "God knows what happens by the time your 30."
For some mad and illogical reason I was convinced that by the age of 30, I would  have an extremely well paid and enjoyable job, and my many responsibilities would lead me half way around the globe. Of course I would also have 6-8 weeks paid holidays, a house, no debts, published a few books ( and I mean seriously published). But there..."erstens kommt es anders, und zweitens als man denkt".
I do enjoy my current job, although the many extra hours and the commuting are getting to me, and the extra time is, of course, unpaid. I do like my life (abroad), but isn't there always something missing. Funny how everyone thinks it must be so great to live abroad, but see, the routine is the same. Only in another language and with more rain. 
When you finally reach 30, you don't really think..Oh well... by the time I'm 35...so much can happen. You don't really wait for it anymore though. Once you're caught up in it all, you just accept.

But I don't bloody want to accept!
I refuse to just go to work, come home, eat tea, go for drinks at the weekend, sleep on Sunday, wait for payday to buy some more new tops from H&M and yearn for me 2 weeks yearly holiday. It's bad enough that I catch myself watching "how to look good naked" or "embarrassing illnesses."
But at least I've written a few good poems (and many bad ones), and quite a good Master's Thesis, although no one's bovvered about that one any more. And let it all out in my blog, which no one reads.

Auch gut.