Thirty-Two

Every year I'm at something of a loss for what to do on my birthday. My birthday is important to me, for entirely personal, sentimental reasons, but I don't want to go around crowing about it to other people. I sometimes think about taking the day off from work, but don't feel enthusiastic about just spending the day by myself. (I feel like I spend enough time by myself on weekends and evenings.)

So it was a pretty low-key birthday. I got some stuff done at work - some fairly exciting stuff, actually, that shows that my project is reaching a watershed point - and got my ass kicked at Quake III in the evening like it's rarely been kicked before. (I mean, I was really astonishingly bad. I managed to pull myself up to "acceptable" in the later games, but sheesh!)

I decided to bail on ultimate because I actually have a hint of a cold or something. Mainly I have a slightly sore throat and my cough has never entirely gone away. So it being my birthday and all, I decided to exercise my executive power to stay inside where it's warm. I really don't want to get sick again, darn it!

Came home and opened one more present I received. Boy, have I acquired a lot of books this winter. Suddenly I feel terribly behind on my reading. I'm actually probably going to cut back on my TV watching (mainly I think I'm ready to drop Dark Angel, X-Men Evolution and Static Shock!, and I'm on the fence about Gideon's Crossing, which is sometimes excellent, but sometimes self-parody) and spend more time reading. I have so many books I really want to read. Heck, Lucy's enthusiasm for George R. R. Martin's current fantasy series has me wanting to read that, and I don't even own it!

So I spent a quiet evening listening to jazz and thumbing through a couple of my gifts. And petting Jefferson, who was being very demanding.

So, not a bad birthday, except for the ass-kicking part, maybe.

Oh, I also got some well-wishes by e-mail from some friends and journal readers. Thanks to everyone! I do appreciate them.

I keep wondering if I have any profound thoughts on the occasion of this birthday, and decided that I don't, really. I'm no longer a twentysomething, of course, but I'm still quite a ways off from being a fortysomething. Age hasn't really defined my life much since I turned 21. I suspect this will eventually change, but for now, it doesn't.

Before my next birthday, though, I would like to move and feel more stable and settled in wherever it is I'm living. I've been in this apartment nearly two years, and have never felt entirely at home here. That seems like a good essential goal to strive for for age 33.

Wow, 16 days into the month and I've written 12 entries.