I’m growing older. My birthday is creeping towards me. In the next month or so, I will have aged another year. Another year since last year.
Birthdays. I don’t know quite how I feel about them. I mean, it’s cool to get a little attention for one day, but it makes me a little squeamish. I don’t really care for all the attention and ‘happy birthday’ and inquiries into how old I actually am. And then people guess…and that can be a touch insulting sometimes. Either it’s way too high and you feel like a haggard old wench or they guess too low and you feel like an immature, college kid.
I’m pretty sure I’m neither. I didn’t mind being an immature college kid, I suppose. But you never quite gain enough respect from people when you’re still in college. Right? It’s only after you’ve graduated and are working somewhere totally unrelated to your field of study. The key is graduating. And working. Then people give you a little more credit….for being able to finish.
Where was I even going with this?
So being that I am creeping up there, I now analyze all of my accomplishments and project what more I can possibly accomplish in the next however many years that I might survive. I don’t care for this at all. I try to resist. I push it away.
No, I don’t want to reflect!!! I just want to be for a minute…
I’m in a crisis. This crisis isn’t totally real. It’s totally made up…as most situations of mental crisis are. We make them up in our clever little brains. Right? I’m in kind of a writing crisis.
Here’s the deal. I love to do it. It makes me feel good. I feel like I might want more of it…or to make it a bigger part of my life in some way. I feel a little shift in my whole life coming. Small, little, tiny, barely significant shift. Nothing earth shattering or facebook worthy. Just a little different feeling about what I put down and where I put it down and how I put it down and who I put it down for.
That song put it down on me pops into my head…
I don’t know. I suppose I just want to put myself more out there. It’s intimidating. I feel the need to start collecting some thicker skin for all the rejections that may come. That doesn’t scare me as much as the putting it all together. I feel pretty good with small snippets. But how do they fit together? How does it all fit together? The creative part of my brain is swarming with delight…and the Left side is asking annoying rational questions.
Ugh, it’s like my mom sometimes. Piss off, Left Brain.