Waiting for the Right Time Mission #2
How does one plan a 25th birthday?
Welcome back. Stay tuned until the end of this edition for some updates on last week’s mission.
TLDR; In this newsletter each week, I tackle something I’ve been avoiding. Or, waiting for the right time to execute.
Mission: Plan my 25th birthday
I am not a planner. But unfortunately, one of the things I’ve begun to learn in young adulthood, and have been slow to internalize, is that one must be when it comes to important trips, Saturday night dinner reservations (this is a new development), and yes, even sometimes FaceTimes with friends. So, while it’s mid-August, and my birthday isn’t until late October, the task I’ve been avoiding for some time, and thinking about for much longer, is what on Earth I’ll do to celebrate my 25th birthday.
I am a big birthday person. I imagine this spurs from my parent’s unrelenting work to make October 29 the Best Day Ever: I’m talking bowling alley parties, sleepovers, piling a gaggle of 13-year-old girls rupturing eardrums with their rendition of Bruno Mars’s Just the Way You Are on the way to the mall into a minivan kind of dedication. Just take one look at my quinceañera. Even beyond the detailed celebrations, I’ve always loved everything about October: playing dress up, crisp air, reruns of Halloweentown. Better still, I like using my birthday as an excuse to get a ton of people I love in a room, celebrating life.
Given these two facts, it should’ve been obvious that 25 would be something I’d obsess over for months and months. Back in June, I listened as some friends recounted how they spent their 25ths—one had gone bungee jumping (or was it cliff diving?) abroad. My sister had at least four events for hers in a true birthday blitz fashion. I started to realize that this was, in fact, A Thing. Naturally, I took to TikTok to confirm my suspicions. I saw adult-sized, light-up “25” signs; the infamous Miami girls trips (these don’t have the same effect when you are from there); luxury hotel stays; Tulum weekends; a $1,000 steak (honestly, what the hell); photoshoots; and 50+ people parties. You survived a quarter life! Celebrate! Get wasted! Spend lots and lots of money! Treat yourself! Each clip practically yelled these declarations at me. This tactic left me more lost than when I started.
I entertained some of these, namely the Miami trip. It could be fun to try to experience my city the way visitors typically do—or really, just have an excuse to dance to reggaeton in Wynwood, something I haven’t done since 2019 (gone dancing that is—there have been three Bad Bunny albums released since then that I have not danced to in public). So, I faced down my mortal enemy: Google Flights. I typed Chicago going Anywhere. They weren’t kidding about inflation. I found no reasonable tickets—quickly taking international getaway to Mexico off the list.
I circled around this milestone for weeks. I spent nights in bed scrolling through flight times or Airbnb listings. I brought it up to the few people I talk to on a regular basis—"well, what do you want to do” was the resounding response.
In a dream world, my 25th birthday would go like this: I’d wake up on Saturday and walk over to my favorite coffee shop. The iced latte would be cold and the crossaint would be fluffy. I’d spend the morning and afternoon cooking a dish that is complicated enough to be impressive, but simple enough to keep me from stressing. Then I’d spend the late afternoon decorating my tablescape. Fresh, in-season flowers, maybe a subtle theme (garden party, autumn harvest?). My friends would all pile into my place. Wine would flow, ABBA music videos would get projected on the wall. We’d tell stories, we’d dance. I’d eat a cake decorated with flowers and stars. I’d spend my Sunday cleaning up our mess from the night before. On the surface, a simple request. But when you live halfway across the country from most of your friends and family: a tall order.
It is, at this point in the planning process, when I recognize I’ve attached too many hopes, longings, and miscellaneous expectations onto one birthday, a day in October that will come and go with a single sleep. I’ve started to do to 25 what I’ve done to a lot of milestones in my life lately. I overthink them to the ground, avoid them any chance I get, deny their arrival, and wish they were dramatically different once I’m staring them down.
I even avoided writing and telling you all about this mission because it’s much more fun to write about empty bookshelves and much harder to face the expectations you’ve set for yourself and subsequently failed to meet.
It’s almost cliché now to write about not meeting life’s milestones or waxing poetic about how you thought life would be different by a certain age. Millennials joke online about thinking they’d have a kid and mortgage by 30, but instead find themselves living at their parent’s house saving up for a down payment in the millionth recession of their lifetime.
I don’t think I ever thought I’d have life figured out by 25 though, or any age for that matter. As we all now know, I’m not a 10-year planner. But I did imagine my 20s much differently than the way they’ve panned out. It’s a result of a natural disaster (pandemic) and personal choices (moving to be close to someone I love). These are simply the cards I chose and was dealt. I still secretly wonder what alternate reality Paola’s 25th birthday might’ve looked like. She might be wearing a dazzling emerald dress on some rooftop. I kind of wish I could meet her. Try her on and see if she fits.
I suspect many of us have gotten lost in the what-ifs over the past two years. I’m still trying to find a way out of mine.
But, back to the plan. I settled on a road trip—I’ve done one for my past two birthdays. I’ve spent all week complaining about this plan. Another Midwestern Road Trip. I will not pretend to be 100% satisfied with this decision. Maybe when my brain is finally fully developed at the ripe age of 25 I won’t be at the whim of these pesky emotions. Either way, I’m driving up Lake Michigan, making a few stops along the way to Traverse City. There will be orange and crimson leaves, pumpkins nestled on doorsteps, strong coffee, and a spooky story podcast or two. It’s no Miami rager, but I do think it is me.
On a scale of waiting for the right time to facing my dread, I would say this week is a there’s probably still some work to do.
Updates on Mission #1
I received some good tips on how to fill these shelves and have made some progress. BookOutlet.com comes highly recommended for cheap paperbacks. One of you suggested I add a few books to a wish list for the holidays. And another shared this very cool idea from TikTok for getting through the unread books on your shelf.
Also, as a small reminder that I have the best friends, I received a package in the mail with two books from a friend’s personal library! You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson and Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri have officially been added to the TBR list.
P.