1. Gyms aren't overly crowded (Not that I go to one anyway)
2. It's the middle of summer (duh)
3. I probably didn't stuff myself with holiday foods for the last month (but possibly lots of cheese)
4. I can totally make the day all about me (and Gretchen) without feeling guilty
For those who know me personally, you all understand that I'm not big on celebrating my birthday. So when it comes around, I often get people asking me what I want/want to do for my birthday, and I never can answer it (not seriously, anyway). I don't respond well to gifts; they make me feel guilty. I try to plan parties, but end up cancelling them because I realize that I would just be doing it for my friends. Then I feel guilty for not planning anything because it was probably their only chance to see me during the year, and then I feel selfish, like I don't deserve any well wishing (let alone gifts) and the cycle repeats.
I'm sure I have pointed out my state of Introversion. Summertime doesn't change my hermit habits unless it's a music festival. Which brings me to the initial point of this post.
Since the beginning of this calendar year (or rather, the last half of my year), I have gone through a lot of changes: leaving the city and moving in with DB, writing for a music website, working part time at a bookstore, going off of my anti depressant, staying sane after going off of my anti depressant, learning to drive stick, starting my first garden, keeping said garden alive... you get what I'm saying. The Adjustment Period is palpable. But holy Isis, the progress I've managed to make in my personal endeavors tends to leave me a little bit speechless.
I can officially consider myself a published writer. Hell, a music journalist. The fantasies that played through my head as I watched "Almost Famous" over and over again are slowly coming true. I've conducted interviews with incredibly talented people, gone to many shows for free, and attended a music festival I had been dreaming of going to for years at no cost. I applied to work at a bookstore because of my love for reading, and with the knowledge that I would never get that degree in Library Science. And I got the job, and it's more rewarding than I thought it would be.
So my Etsy shop is at a very slow pace right now while I work on new designs, and reconfigure what I want it to represent, but that's okay. And I'm pursuing a band at a slow pace while I improve my vocal abilities because I want the versatility of a great metal vocalist, and that's okay too. Because I'm doing yoga, and my cat is happy, and DB and I talk all the time about what we want out of life, what we want from each other, how we can make our situation better, more fulfilling, more...us.
I don't know. For so long, I've tried to complicate my life with the idea that I needed to hurry and accomplish everything now. Yes, I want success. I still want to write novels, I still very much want to be in a band that goes as far as our dreams can take us, I still want a shop that allows me to use my hands to create and fill a small spot in someone else's heart. But see, here's the thing. It's okay to be hungry without the desperation. My desire hasn't died, the blind urgency has. And I think it's because perhaps the Universe is trying to tell me, "Hey. Hold on. I know you've got those dreams, and Ima let you finish, but dude. Look at that garden you've tended. There's kale, and cucumbers, and rosemary, and peppers, and more. And it's delicious. Look at that man you live with, the one who is willing to give his last cent to make sure your dreams come true. Is that not real love? Look at how you've gotten a foot into the music industry, through your writing. And while you're at it, look at the moon, and the stars, and notice how healthy you are, and how anxious you aren't. Enjoy every part of it. You know all too well how fleeting life can be. Follow the path to your dreams, but don't forget about the scenery on your way there. And don't forget to create memories with the little things."
Apparently, the Universe is pretty wordy with me. I assume they modify the message to fit the recipient. With Ernest Hemingway, they were probably like, "Hey, man. Write." And he was like, "Got it."
So anyway, Happy New Year to me! Now go enjoy yourselves.