Goals.

I’m turning 26 this week. It’s not really a scary age, except that in my eyes, it is officially ‘late twenties’. That’s fine. My late twenties have brought with them many wonderful things. I now have a cavity from years of hard work eating chocolate (which I will fill when I have money, and then probably wear through again with more chocolate). I now have a better appreciation of wine (cleanskin, cask, the alcohol in a deodorant stick, whatever). I now have an aversion to loud music (when I go out and find the musical to be annoyingly loud – which is anything above my natural dulcet speaking volume – I will roll up tissues and stick them in my ears like a grumpy old man). I now have one grey hair (which was discovered two days ago, and I’m tempted to pull it out, but then apparently two grow in its’ place. But surely that can’t be true, because otherwise men could cure baldness? Just keep plucking one grey, let two grow, pluck them, let four grow, pluck them... and so on until head is covered? Anyway...) and three wrinkles on my forehead (which are sort of like ‘surprise’ lines, from raising my eyebrows too often. Apparently I live in a constant state of shock). I have a lot of things that I didn’t use to have, and I have lost some that I had (my youth, for one). But I am quite surprised that one thing hasn’t changed.

I still have the same big life goals as when I was a kid.

I’m a goal setter. I love New Year’s resolutions, because whether I reach them or not, it gives me something to work towards. This year, my resolutions were:

1. Join Twitter (accomplished Jan 1, though still with no idea what to do and without many bird friends or whatever they are called on Twitter)
2. Do my my first ever Fringe show (that is a show in a Fringe festival, not a show with a new haircut).
3. Participate in a fun-run* (to change my mind that ‘fun-run’ is an oxymoron).
4. Have a Trapeze lesson (never too late to run away with the circus).

I am halfway through my resolutions, which is pretty good for Sep 2^nd. I like goals, however big or small, because they make me get off my ass and commit.

...and a soccer goal without a net is just a pole...?

However, there are a few little goals that I’m glad haven’t worked out. If 10-year-old Lucy was here, she would be embarrassed and disappointed because 26-year-old Lucy doesn’t drive a new pink Beetle. In fact, Young Lucy would be shocked that Old Lucy didn’t just buy one when she turned 18 and got all rich from being an adult. 18-year-old Lucy would be wondering where the hubby is (come to think of it, 26-year-old Lucy wonders that sometimes too), and why Old Lucy has less money now than she did when she was 18. 26-year-old Lucy doesn’t worry about money too much, because she assumes that 35-year-old Lucy has that shit worked out, and a rich husband on the side (Bondi Vet is rich, yeah?).  35-year-old Lucy probably assumes that 50-year-old Lucy has finally worked out how ‘Superannuation’ works and has a funeral plan sorted. And I bet 70-year-old Lucy is wondering why the fuck 26-year-old Lucy didn’t fill the cavity in her tooth (actually 70-year-old Lucy is probably wondering what her name is and what day is it again, love?).

I have goals right now that will probably make an Older Me laugh one day, because time changes almost everything. I no longer want a pink Beetle (all of my possessions are in the back of my Honda CRV... there is no way my clothes would fit in a VW. And I’d feel like a tool.) I no longer want to be a ballerina (turns out, they aren’t allowed to eat much. And ballet is really fucking hard). I no longer really, really, really want to be a Spice Girl (actually, I kind of do. Lazy Spice? Smiley Spice?) or marry Aaron Carter. But, as I said, there are a few goals that have stayed the same for many years, and I can’t imagine them ever changing. They are not my only life goals, but they are the things I always have and always will continue to reach for. And for the sake of making myself accountable, I am going to disclose them to you, so if you ever feel like keeping me on track, you can dangle them in front of me and watch me reach, like a fat man reaches for a Krispy Kreme**.

1. To become a successful actor so I can be on a Fantale (I may be flexible enough to take any mention on a Fantale as success, even in another actors’ story. E.g., ‘Jake Gyllenhaal was notoriously stalked by pyschopath Lucy Gransbury’).
2. To own a house so I can fit it out with the perfect shower (pressure, design, view... it’s the heart of the home).
3. To live a long, healthy life, so I can experience a summer of ’69 (I’m leaving it up to 82-year-old Lucy to have the best days of her/my life).
4. To have a happy family of my own, so I can send out an awesomely lame Christmas card (preferably with matching Christmas jumpers).

I am steadily working towards my life goals, even though they still seem beyond my fingertips right now. Some of them get further away as I get older, such as being a home-owner... last year I was renting, and now I am technically homeless, so that’s not going to plan. But I’m homeless as part of a different plan – career stuff. Although, I am currently largely unemployed.... okay, so maybe a few things aren’t going to plan. But it’s okay, because I’m having a lot of fun trying, and I always have the blind faith that things will be alright in the end. I kind of imagine that they will just slowly fall into place as I get older – with a lot of hard work, of course. Right now, I’m just gonna keep plugging away. I may not be close to achieving any of my goals just yet, but hell. I’m only 26.

* This is the only New Years Resolution that is in danger of not being achieved. If anyone has any tips, or would like to help me, or can set up a fake fun-run that only goes for 500metres, please let me know so I can start training.

** Come to think of it, this may be a good way to get me to do a fun-run.

By Lucy Gransbury. Follow her on twitter @LucyGransbury. Or follow her in real life. She's kicking goals... slowly.