on turning 35

I turned 35 today.

I am extraordinarily okay with that.

That’s good, as there’s really not much I could constructively do about it, else.

The thing that’s different about this birthday versus my previous ones is that I’m living in a new city far away from most of my people. Granted, I spent my thirtieth birthday by myself in Paris, but good lord, that was Paris–different rules apply.

Today, I had classes and a quiz and I’m coming off of midterms. I’ve been running around, and I’m living with a ton of boxes half unpacked. My place is a disaster (coming together slowly). I meant to rally my friends and acquaintances here in Portland to go out for my traditional Japanese dinner, but with everything going on, that just didn’t happen. But I’m happy.

My friend, Q., has come to visit for a few days, which is a delightful gift–and we got ourselves out for that Japanese food I’m so fond of for my birthday.

So it’s a quiet birthday, and I’m feeling contemplative and good.

On the whole, I’m on course. I made a plan, and I’m following it. I still find that amazing–I sometimes have to stop and realize that this insanity is entirely of my own making, and that it’s a good thing.

Basically, it’s “Holy crap, Batman, it’s my life!” pretty much all the time right now. Things will settle soon, I hope.