Another Year

Yesterday was my birthday.  It was a fantastic day.  Most undoubtedly one of the best birthdays ever.  I can’t pin point exactly why.  I got up before the sun to start the day with a run with Back on My Feet.  It’s still hard getting up at 5, but so worth it to actually run in cool temperatures.  I had to spend some time at work, but my group got me the cutest cake ever.  I left early and pampered myself with a mani/pedi.  Up next was another Back on My Feet Event – the Blue Mile Brew Mile at Triton Brewing.  One more mile on the shoes.  Having a Wednesday birthday kind of stinks for celebrating, so we had a low-key dinner at Napolese, with plans to hit up The Libertine and Black Market on Saturday.  The night was capped off with a made-entirely-from-scratch chocolate peanut butter banana cake. (Yep, my husband bakes.)

I love birthdays.  I love my birthday, your birthday, any reason to celebrate a day all about you.  When I was a kid, I didn’t really like having a June birthday.  In elementary school I never got to bring treats on my actual birthday.  I got crammed into the last week of school with all the other summer birthday kids.  (See above re: “all about me”).  Then I realized how awesome it was to have a summer birthday pool party.  Then I didn’t mind a June birthday so much.

I’ve always firmly embraced my birthday, trying to maximize the waking hours of “my” day (18+ hours yesterday!).  I’ve never much thought about age.  I believe you are only as old as you feel.  So, it came as a bit of a surprise when a couple of weeks ago I started to feel some anxiety about the approaching day.  It’s not a milestone birthday – not a multiple of five or ten.  I didn’t understand it.

I turned 30 without much trepidation.  So why now?  I realized the last few years were pretty exciting: buying a new house, getting engaged, getting married, going on a honeymoon.  After all of those big events, it was time to start living life, settling in, growing old, being happy.  But this last year hasn’t really gone as planned.

I wouldn’t say that I have set goals for any given year, but as time progresses, I have expectations about what should be accomplished by certain stages of life.  I’m not saying that this past year is the first year that hasn’t gone as expected.  Far from it.  I’ve had years that were real shitters.  But it’s easier to shrug your shoulders and say, “That sucked, but life goes on,” when you’re in your 20s.  Not quite so easy in your mid-30s.

But for all the anxiety, once the day was finally here, I realized that it’s all OK.  Life doesn’t always go as planned, but it will go on.  Yes, I expected things to be different than they are now, but that doesn’t mean that I have to give up on getting to that place.  I also don’t need to feel bad or try to justify why I am where I am.  Where I am right now is actually pretty darn good, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Surfacing

It’s been a while since I’ve been here.  Six weeks to be exact (if being exact is your kind of thing).  I can’t really pinpoint where I’ve been.  I have plenty of excuses I could give you.  (Work took up half that time.  Then I was sad that work was taking up so much time.  I was out of town for a couple of weekends.  I spent a lot of time reading about The Oatmeal’s trouble with Funny Junk.)  None of them really mean anything.

I haven’t just been neglecting this blog.  I haven’t been writing at all.  Nothing.  Zero.  Zilch.  You would think writing would be a welcome retreat, but no, it was more fun to throw myself a pity party.  We’ve all been there.  You don’t really want to go, but you got the invitation and you don’t want to be rude.  Then you end up staying much longer than you ever intended.   So, I guess I did know where I was – trapped in the black hole of self-pity.

I finally decided I was tired of doing that.  I’m trying to get out of the hole and back to the surface where life is happening.  It hasn’t been easy.  I can still hear some of the party-goers shouting after me, “What’s the point?  You’ll never be a writer!  Just stay here with us!  Have another beer!”  Then they crank up some 90s dance mix to try to lure me back in.  They know me so well.  Yes, all the exclamation points are necessary.  They are very enthusiastic about their nay-saying.

In an attempt to drown out said party-going nay-sayers, I’ve been writing in my head.  Yes, yes, all writing thoughts originate in my head.  What I mean is that the thoughts for a story or blog post are flowing out while I’m driving or running (mostly running).  I don’t know if this counts as writing.  Probably not since I have yet to actually put pen to paper for any of them, but the ideas are still clear in my head.  (Is there an app that will translate my thoughts into written word?  Can someone please invent that?)

If it isn’t yet obvious, I have no idea where I’m going with this.  I just felt the need to give some type of explanation as to where I’ve been; although, I really haven’t done that.  I am trying to be accountable.  I’m ‘fessing up to the entire Internet and promising to do better.  It’s almost my birthday, and I want only good things to happen this next year.  I need to get in the right frame of mind.  You know, positive thinking and all that.

So, to summarize, I disappeared for a while because I’m lame, and I let self-doubt take over.  No more!  I’m taking a stand.  To be a writer, you must write, and write I will.  Even if it’s about making dinner or doing the laundry.  Wait – don’t go!  I promise I won’t bore you with posts like that (unless it’s really entertaining, but I wouldn’t hold my breath).

Enough pointless musings for a Monday.  I’ll be back soon – pinky swear.