Today is my 57th birthday. I tend to celebrate birthdays by making observations of the previous year, and this time is no different:
- I don't feel 57. I have the heart of a thirty-year-old. Unfortunately, I have the face and body of a 57-year-old.
- Writing-wise:
- I still have room to improve especially cover letters.
- I have options: I can self-publish if I want.
- World events:
- I knew we were going to have a pandemic; I didn't count on being this emotionally settled with it.
- It truly seems as if the world I had grown up with: women's rights, minority rights, gay rights -- in other words, true equality -- is crumbling. I need to find the right way to fight.
- Personal life
- I broke a curse that I had lived with all my life. I can't explain it all here, but the situation had all of the hallmarks of a curse. End result: I accept that I am loveable as I am.
- It's really not bad being in one's fifties -- It makes me nervous that I'm closer to 60 than 50, and I can't believe my high school graduation was almost 40 years ago.
- I'm on a pretty even keel emotions wise, for which I am grateful.
In-between the disruption of COVID and the crimes of this political administration, beyond feeling overwhelmed by the changes in the world, the little crumbs of life are good -- laughing with my husband, playing with Chloe the kitten, watching Poirot, interacting with students (as strange as it is with small classrooms and Zoom meetings).
Tonight I will go to dinner at William Coy's with my husband and contemplate how I can make next year a better one.
