Birthday

So, it was my birthday last weekend and, because I wholeheartedly believe in being self-indulgent on your birthday, I not only drank way too many champagne cocktails, I also got a little nostalgic. Lolling in bed, nursing a headache, I tried to think of all my little girl dreams and of those, how many I'd actually accomplished.
Become a veterinarian serving a clientele of puppies, kittens and bunnies? Nope.
Own a home with built-in bookshelves and a breakfast nook? Also, no.
Write the next great American novel? Hah.
As I kept counting things off, I quickly realized that my life is nothing like what I imagined it would be like at the tender age of 6. I'm back in school and, as a career-switcher, somewhat careerless. I own a car and two closets' full of clothes, but nothing more substantial than that. And, the only semi-creative writing I've done recently has been this blog. Judged against my little girl standards, I'm sort of a sorry case.
But when I think about my life at 27, I'm actually quite satisfied. I'm here at Darden, preparing to transition to the business side of media (an industry I truly believe in). I have fabulous friends (who provide not only champagne, but also aspirin). And, without the responsibilities of home ownership, marriage and motherhood, I'm free to pursue my passions as I see fit. All in all, I've gotten to a great place, one I'm proud of and happy in.
Over the past 21 years, I've come to grips with the fact that I may never be able to check off veterinary sciences or the great American novel. And I'm perfectly okay with that. Of course, I'm still holding out for that breakfast nook.