[caption id="attachment_947" align="alignright" width="225" caption="Me before my birthday"]<img class="size-medium wp-image-947" title="CAE Traveling " src="http://www.karolinkabulgaria.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/dsc08403.jpg?w=225" alt="Me before my birthday" width="225" height="300" />[/caption]

It's funny. I woke up this morning and thought: today is my birthday.  Today is my birthday and I am lying in my bed in Sofia, Bulgaria.  Then I thought: how old am I? Nearly 30 was the first answer that came to me but not 30 in a bad way. Not in the way that makes you freak out about how old you are and what you've done with your life--instead I was struck by this sense of unbelief that my life could have worked out like this.

I've got a passport full of stamps, a couple of  suitcases and a life in Eastern Europe. Yesterday I was 27 and today I am 28. Does age really matter that much when you have so many good things in your life?

The thing is when I was small, I counted.  I go to school five days a week, I have x number of dolls, I play with my friends two days a week, on Saturday mornings I can watch 60 minutes of tv and when people asked me how old I was I always included halfs.  For example, I would answer: oh, I am 6 and a half.  These were markers for me.  They helped me keep track of the passage of time and helped me define who I was.

In someways, I haven't changed much.  I still like to be able to track, catalog and name my accomplishments and achievements.  I have photos, a resume and and facebook to prove it.  It's just these days I don't count the half birthdays. <!--more-->This morning I realized that the markers have changed--27 wasn't so different than 25 and I can't imagine that 28 will be much different than 30.  These days, half birthdays pass with little notice and this birthday it seems has snuck up on me, so much so, that I just sent out a late morning email to friends to meet me for drinks tonight.

The thing is that my birthday marks a passing of time but it doesn't define me.  If my twenties have taught me anything it's that there's time enough.  My friends and I have marked our twenties with a mix of weddings, graduate school, babies, houses, break-ups, travel and promotions.

A year ago I worried about making the right choice: taking a new job as a director of fellowships at a large state school or chasing a Fulbright in Bulgaria.  Now my year in Sofia is quickly coming to a close  and for the first time in a long time I don't know what's next.  Come July and August, I don't have a job in the States--hell--I don't even own a bed anymore.

As a result, I find myself  vacillating between being terrified and exhilarated.  Emotionally it's draining but that's what makes being twenty-something exciting. It's pretty incredible to find myself with the opportunity to imagine and re-imagine my life in a hundred different ways and to be free to pursue those dreams.

At 23 or 24, I couldn't have imagined this life (or this year) for myself and now I find myself at an interesting crossroads where it's once again time to imagine what's possible (and maybe even to imagine the impossible).  Today, I don't know what I'll be doing three months from now nor what I'll be doing in November 18 on my half-birthday but this year has taught me that I don't have to know these things.  I just have to be open to possibility, I have to take chances, and I have to try new things.

A year ago, I wondered if I was being crazy or taking too many risks--who just up and moves to a little known country in Eastern Europe after all?--and now I wouldn't have it any other way.  Sure there are days when I wake up and think: the economy is horrible, finding a job is going to be impossible and I can't believe that at nearly 30 I'll be living at home with my parents but a part of me knows that it won't last forever.  The economy will get better, I'll find a job and I am not being forced to live at home (I am in the lucky position to be able live there).  And honestly, I can say that it's all been worth it and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Is it what I imagined at 6 and a half when I still wanted to believe in unicorns, frog kisses and fairy tale endings? No.  In fact, I think it's far better than that.  I've been able to create for myself a story that doesn't rely on the trappings of a white dress, singing birds or a handsome prince.   I've lived among people who are like and completely unlike me; I've learned a little bit of the language and wished I'd learned more; I've been frustrated and I've overcome that frustration and all the while I've learned more and more about myself.  This seems to me more magical to me than glass slippers, turning straw into gold or having a prince carry me off into "happily ever after."