Thirty and Flirty and Thriving (?)

I've been listening to this song a lot lately -- "I Don't Feel Young" by Wye Oak, an indie folk group currently touring with the Decemberists.

As some of you know, I turned 30 on Tuesday. And it's true -- I don't feel young. This felt like a significant birthday. I was nothing but excited about it for the months leading up to it; I'm optimistic about the next decade and what it might hold. And yet, the day before my birthday, I suddenly felt a little panicked and sad. My 20s are over and what do I have to show for them?

Well, I don't have a great answer for that. But I don't think I wasted them entirely. I spent most of them in New York, the last few years in Boston. I've definitely had a lot of....adventures. I'll probably have some in my 30s, too. Also, according to my stepmom, in my 30s I am allowed to wear more outrageous outfits and larger jewelry.

And as for my gift to myself? I am actually doing none of the things I wrote about. Psych! However, the solo trip to Spain received the most votes and I am doing something similar -- I'm (hopefully, pending some scholarship money) going on a service trip to China for two weeks in July. I'll spend one week volunteering in a rural province outside of Shanghai and one week sightseeing in Beijing. I'm super excited about it and feel it's a great thing way to travel and also give something back.

In terms of the birthday itself, the day was largely uneventful. It started with my printer deciding to no longer work and almost making me late for a meeting. After my meeting I got a manicure, a fun new haircut and threw myself a party at Marliave, which was a blast. Friends from Lineage, Emerson, and Funkin' A! all represented. This weekend, I'm headed to New York to celebrate with college and post-college friends.

This blog is 2.5 years old and I'm 30. Hopefully, both are getting better with age. I'll conclude here with a great Kenneth Koch poem, a wistful and funny ode to the decade I just exited.

To My Twenties

How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another (and water!)
I’m still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X—- N——, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren’t a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.

T-minus 45 days

Let the countdown to my 30th birthday begin!

45 days left in my 20s. And one of the things on my mind is what to get myself. What? Get yourself a birthday present? That's absurd!

I am a huge proponent of getting oneself a present for one's birthday. It's the only way to ensure you will receive something you actually want, as opposed to a mousepad shaped like a ladybug (sorry, Mom). It's not necessary to break the bank; last year, I treated myself to a lovely pair of earrings that cost under $20. I wear them all the time.

This year, however, I am planning to splurge a little more, since I am turning the big 3-0. Here are the current contenders:

1. Vespa


Admit it: I would look pretty cute zipping around town on one of these babies. When I told my mother I was considering this, she said "Do you want me to never sleep again?" Good thing she doesn't know about the next option...

2. Skydiving with my brother Richard

We actually talked about doing this when he graduated from college but never got around to it. It could be time. I'm terrified of it and can't conceive of doing it....which is part of what makes it tempting. Achieving something that seems impossible would probably be a great way to kick off the next decade of my life.

3. Lasik

Since age 15, my glasses have been my thing, the signature part of my appearance. Most people dig the look -- more than one member of the opposite sex has said they are a turn-on. Still, I might be ready to shake up what my friends call The Katie Vagnino Aesthetic.

4. Solo trip to Spain

Traveling with friends is super fun, but I've been craving the experience of taking a major trip abroad by myself. And I've never been to Spain. And don't all the men there look like Javier Bardem?

5. Breast reduction

This option I have floated by a few friends with mixed reactions. Women get it -- big boobs are a big annoyance. I long to sleep on my stomach and wear strapless dresses. Men think I'm crazy for wanting to change what they consider one of my better assets. You can't please everyone, I guess. I have done some research and talked with some women who've had it done (and are thrilled with the results) so at the very least, I think I'll get a consultation. And if I do decide to do it, I'll certainly throw my tits a farewell soiree. They deserve that.

So now, readers, I'm giving you the chance to weigh in.....

What should the gift be?

And so my 30th year of life begins....

Guess what? I turned 29 yesterday!

I had a hangover approximately the size of Montana since the celebrating started the night before, after my first full-length concert with vocal band, Funkin' A! (yes, the exclamation point is part of the name). Or more accurately, the celebrating started during the concert when during an extended instrumental break of one of my solos (Michael Jackson's "Working Day and Night"), I did a shot at the bar. Because I'm just that gangsta. We performed with more established (but less visually stylish) groups Overboard and Similar Jones. Fun times.

Then we went to my former place of work, the Hong Kong, for some karaoke. My brother (visiting from NYC) serenaded the pretty bartender with an amazing version of Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me." My memory starts to get a little fuzzy around the point where my old boss started buying rounds of shots. Hence, the Monday hangover.

But I pulled it together in time for a lovely birthday dinner at Cuchi Cuchi, where I reserved the Chico Chica Boom Table, New England's first interactive LED (light-emitting diode) table.

It was a great night, with great company. I am a lucky girl. And like a French Bordeaux, I'm only getting better with age. I'm confident that my 30s will be filled with less folly than my 20s, a.k.a. "my salad days/ when I was green in judgment" (Antony and Cleopatra, Act I).

Green in judgment, indeed. That's putting it mildly.

Happy Birthday, blog!

One year ago, I lost my blogging virginity. When I first created The Vagnino Monologues, I thought it was entirely possible and even likely that I would get bored with posting within a month. But it's been a whole year! Hooray! And a teacher friend of mine told me that she's using some of the poems I used for my "So You Think You Don't Like Poetry" posts for her high school students because she thinks they are accessible and appealing. So apparently, my blog is serving an educational purpose.

I'm pretty wiped out this week, from waitressing, stage managing and nonfiction writing, so I'll just wrap this up and say thanks for reading!

Happy Birthday to me...almost

In a few hours, I will turn 28. It's not a particularly watershed year, but I unabashedly love my birthday, so I never shy away from letting people know when it is.

I have always been baffled by people who don't tell you when their birthday is coming up. Your birthday is the one day out of the entire year when you can basically demand that people be nice to you. It's a celebration of your existence. So I don't get why some folks want to keep their special day a secret. Tell me it's your birthday, and I will hug you and buy you a cocktail. Win, win.

When I was in elementary school (and actually for much of high school as well), I would wear a gigantic button on my birthday that said "It's my birthday and I can do whatever I want." It was not very subtle. Not much has changed -- I throw myself a party every year and invite everyone I know. This year, I planned two parties in two different cities. For my 30th, who knows, my party might be simulcast in countries around the world.

My most memorable birthday? It's wasn't 16, when I got my driver's license. Or 18, when I could vote. Or even 21, when my drinking habit became acceptable in the eyes of the law. It was my 6th birthday: March 1, 1987.

You see, I was in kindergarten at the Wilson School at the time. And I couldn't wait to go to First Grade and join the ranks of the big kids. I used to ask my parents all the time when I could go to First Grade and they told me that when I was six, I'd have my chance. So naturally, I assumed that the day I turned six, I could leave the losers of Kindergarten behind forever and begin my life as a sophisticated First Grader.

I remember waking up that morning and being so excited I couldn't even eat breakfast. My mom dressed me in my favorite pink dress with a rhinestone hearts. And when I was dropped off at school, I made a beeline for the First Grade classroom, which was in the opposite direction of Kindergarten. The principal of the school, Mrs. Patton, stopped me curiously:

"Good morning, Katie. Where are you going?"

"It's my birthday, Mrs. Patton and I'm six today so I get to go to First Grade!"

"Well, Katie, happy birthday. But you will start First Grade in September with the rest of your class."

"But....I'm six TODAY and six-year-olds are in First Grade." (Duh)

The conversation devolved very quickly from there and ended with me bursting in tears, the idea of having to spend another day in Kindergarten too upsetting for me to bear. They actually had to call my mom and put her on the phone with me to calm me down. I was inconsolable.

I don't expect 28 to be as dramatic...but you never know.