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So today I turn thirty-one years old. Unlike past years where I have some witty words or symbolic meaning on turning a certain age - "What 27 Means" is one of the most read posts on this blog for some reason - I simply cannot come up with anything. Really, I've got nothing. 

It's not that thirty-one is pointless, or I don't have goals for the next year, or that I'm settled on the person I am - all of the former will probably never happen - it's just that as of right now, thirty one just feels, well, umm...about as odd as thirty one sounds. 

I cannot describe it. I'm guessing thirty one is one of those ages that will define itself as the year goes on. After all, we all spend the latter years of our twenties preparing for thirty and the big 3-0, that we never truly look beyond it. And thirty one is definitely that feeling of, "oh yeah, this thing called life continues past 30, huh?"

Regardless, I'm still in love with 31. I don't nearly feel as old physically as the younger twenty somethings state, and I'm definitely, more than ever, beginning to realize how stupid the decisions I use to make really are. 

I guess that's part of this whole deal. Growing up. Being an adult. And making the next year better than the previous. That's all I can ask, and that's truly all I want. 

I'm looking forward to thirty-one. Bring it on. 

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