My 32nd birthday is in less than a month. It's not something I particularly feel like celebrating. Not that I'm all OH GOD THIRTY TWO. It's more of a...huh. 32 eh? Alrighty then. Biological clock is ticking but the alarm isn't ringing. I'm happily boo'd up and on the path to forever but not quite ready for marital bliss and all the work that entails. I'm progressing in my career but not quite at the stage I thought I'd be at this point. There's a lot of...on the verge. On the cusp. On the brink. Yeah. There's a whole lot of vergey, cuspy, brinky shit going on.
Feel kind of like Tony. Who knows...Something's Coming. That has always been my least favorite song from Westside Story and what was coming to Tony was catching Maria's brother with the wrong end of a shiv and then fucking death. So it's no surprise that this ALMOST place I find myself in makes me uncomfortable. And by uncomfortable, I mean anxious, frustrated, sad and all around awesome. If I were to garner any kind of perspective, I'd tell myself to calm the fuck down. But that would require me to stop beating myself up and, well, that's just unheard of.
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1 indulged me:
I love your ability to put what I'm feeling into words.
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