I feel obligated to write something here on my birthday. Another year gone by, a time to reflect…naw. I haven’t reflected much at all today. The way I see it, once you are over 40, you have two choices. You can either let yourself mope about your actual age in years, or you can look at it as one more yearful of wisdom you have accumulated. Today I chose to forget about how many years old I am. Instead I focused on who I am. As much as it still surprises me, I am a writer. Sometimes I forget this, then I remember, oh yes, I wrote an entire book. I’m writing another book. Therefore, I must be a writer.
I think where we get ourselves all confused, and ultimately depressed, is to focus on the number of years, our age. We aren’t numbers. Every one of us is a unique individual, with talents and skills and foibles and weaknesses and strengths. Who we are inside as well as outside is what matters. I refuse to conform to some idea of who I should be based on my age. I don’t feel my age. If I want to be a writer and a grandmother and a fan of heavy metal music and science fiction and participate in online role-playing games, then that is who I will be. Yes, I may crochet blankets for all my family, and occasionally walk with a cane, but I will still remember how to flirt, how to laugh, how to appreciate the beauty that is around me. That is why you see a picture of today’s sunset on this blog post. Okay, also because I am enamored with my phone’s technology and love taking pictures with a phone. It is just plain fun.