In human years I am 29. In actress years I'm the ripe, promising age of 18 to 35. That's how it works here in Hollyweird. You aren't a specific age—you're an amorphous mystery cloud of time that molds to whatever the director has in mind. "Sure, I'm a freshman in college! Can't you tell by my ponytail and henna tattoo?" or "Of course I'm a 34-year-old neuroscientist. Did you not see my lab coat and sensible shoes?"

Back in the human world, though, I'm hitting a major milestone: 30, or as I like to call it, the Cut the Bullsh-t and Go Be Awesome stage. I'm thrilled about this impending development (I might finally grow boobs!), but my brain has some catching up to do (I'm gobsmacked when bartenders refuse to ask for my ID).

Sure, it'll be tougher to convince an audience I'm the "feisty young coed," cramming for my biochem final and wondering if Zac Efron's character likes my new crushed-velvet headband, but I was never crazy about those roles anyway. People assume actresses are afraid to get older; the truth is the roles get a whole lot more compelling once you're too old to play dumb. So I'm welcoming this development with open arms, and so should you. Here's some advice I'm offering (and hopefully also taking).

DON'T freak out about all the brilliant people who accomplished more than you by 30.

Yes, Einstein had discovered the theory of relativity by your age, and Emily Brontë had written Wuthering fu*#ing Heights, but honestly, what you achieve is far less important than what kind of human being you are. What do you want people to say at your funeral: "Olivia may have cured HIV, but she ran over my cat and drove away laughing"? No, thanks! I'd rather be a good person who makes people happy than a dick who wins a Nobel by 32.

DO enjoy your sexual prime.

Hey oh! According to horny Professor Alfred Kinsey's 1953 page-turner Sexual Behavior in the Human Female, women really start heating up in their thirties, so let's just say it's finally your turn to act like an 18-year-old boy—except you'll be 1,000 times better at...everything.

DON'T cut your face.

I am so saddened and grossed out by young women who look like creepy, old aliens because of their new Barbie noses and lips. Is that a smile or a grimace? Did you melt hot wax on your face, or is that your skin? A better approach: Take care of yourself now that you're old enough to know how. Drink water, sleep eight hours (I wish), and don't go within 400 feet of a tanning booth or I'll slap you. Hard.