Titles are always the hardest part for me. And they’re always the first empty box to fill. They go at the top of the page, for goodness sake. But that’s a lot of pressure to start off with. I mean, how do you really know what it’s going to be about when something starts?
It’s my birthday today. I kinda want to like that. It makes me feel entitled, like I’m safe to ask for things and fulfill my needs, and ask others to fulfill my needs. I enjoy having that option more than I do utilizing it.
I don’t feel too old or too young. I don’t feel sad about my birthday nor do I feel really enthused. My ‘meh’ seems purposeful though, and not as apathetic as your average meh might seem. I feel in-the-between, and my insides are finally quiet about it now, for the most part.
You see, I think I’m having a mid-life crisis. Not a crisis, exactly, although it’s peppered with lots of fussing and fretting, but that comes naturally to a double Virgo like me. I’m having a mid-life … something. Like many things, I’m not sure when it started. Back when I quit my day job? Back when the bottom started to drop out of my belief system? Back when the thing that mattered the most was finding the precise way to express just how much it bothered me that nothing meant anything? I’m going to go with Yes.
I’m not sure the story I’m telling myself, or going to tell you, is accurate. I think maybe there’s no such thing when it comes to my story, or anyone’s. You tell it using the words you have in you now, from the perspective in which you happen to be operating, and you think it means something. And maybe that’s the only reason it does.
So here’s today’s story: I am 39. I am a writer trying to believe herself when she says she’s a writer. I’m an astrologer trying to do the same thing. I’ve decided that some of my biggest problems stem from laziness and impatience and I’m looking forward to getting around to doing something about that. And in this blog I shall attempt to actually be whatever it is I am instead of trying to sound like I am.