29 is not an elegant number.
It’s awkward, with all its strength on one side. It’s dragging the unwilling 2 towards the inevitable 3.
I don’t really know what getting old means. In may ways, I am still a child.
Does it mean giving up on my dreams? Or does it mean changing them? I’ve been working at my first career-level job for a month. I’m not really sure how much I like it, but I’m willing to give it a try.
Quoting Buffy (I know, I know), I still feel like I’m baking. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready. I’ve already expressed how I’m always changing, fluid like water and swift like fire.
Is it time to think about settling? In a job, a routine, in a comfortable life that brings me pretty much everything I ever wanted… except, I suppose, excitement?
Can I keep a sense of excitement in my life as I’m unwillingly being dragged towards the “you’re a responsible adult now” 30?
P.S.: If I had been in Edmonton, I could have said, once again, that it snowed on my birthday. It’s a blizzard, actually. But in Victoria, it’s only raining.