Tomorrow is my 35th birthday. There is still the voice in my head of my 15 year old self that couldn’t imagine anything past 21, wondering just how in the hell I got here. I don’t feel old. (those of you who are older than me can shut it and keep reading) I creak, I squeak, I don’t have the reaction times I had when I was younger. However, I love who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. To me old feels like it may never happen. I’ve got the gray hair already (which I like much better as a canvas for purple), the creases in the corners of my eyes, the white (and black, so many black) chin hairs. My belly is a war zone of stretch marks. I can’t ignore that I have to pee for very long. I get disgruntled when I listen to top 40 radio for too long. Yet, I’m not old, I’m just right. I hope I always am.
I am a little bit punk. I am the product of hippies who works for a big company. I do hipster things while mocking hipsters. I am the mom with the purple hair. I am an involved parent who cares dearly about her kid, but lets her make mistakes. I let my big kid eat Popsicles, and candy and junk food sometimes because the big one (so far) eats salads, and fruit and sushi. I have little tolerance for hate, but I am open to different ideas. I am a college drop out who one day with finish. I am still crappy at managing my money. I work full time, outside the home, and refuse to apologize for it, though I am fiercely defensive about “family time” because of it. I am happy in my marriage. I am frustrated by my house, but it is my home and I love it. I was once a vegetarian. I love steak, and bacon, and tomatoes, and sour dough bread, and sushi, and food that is anything but “American”. I love travel. I love beauty, and I find it everywhere. I am still learning.
I want to make this year the year that I get my writing to where I want it to be. No tasks, no requirements, just wanting to write. I feel like I’m finding the level of self acceptance I only dreamed of as a kid. I am not perfect, there are improvements to be made, but I am me. I am beautiful. I am strong. I am more than what people think I am. I want writing to be where I can keep this momentum I feel going.
I will write, whenever I can, on my phone if I have to. I will balance it with photography, and sketching, though I am shitty at it (I bought a bound sketch book and a bunch of pencils when getting M school supplies) and poetry. I will not care who reads or listens. I will do it for me.
I take self portraits a lot now. It is a sign, I think, that I am more OK with myself than ever. Sure, I work the flattering camera angle, but I like what I see.