Today, I mark the passing of three decades and with that comes a certain amount of trepidation and introspection. As you approach the twilight of your twenties, I think it’s a safe bet that many people feel a real sense of inadequacy for the myriad of life goals yet to be achieved—Do I have a ‘real’ job? Do I have a house? Or a baby (if that’s something you’re striving for)? There is, of course, not only what has or has not yet been accomplished but also the added pressure of where you are going with the remainder of your life.

As my 25th year draws to a close, with a couple short weeks until my next anniversaire, I feel compelled to take stock of the past year and all its adventure. I realize most people have this moment of nostalgia around New Year’s, but for me, such reminiscence is stirred by my encroaching birthday. Since I was a kid, I have always felt the need to be older…perhaps believing that I could skip the awkward, gawky faze of adolescence right to what I believed to be the good stuff.