Last Monday I turned the big 2-8, which in reality, is nothing in the scheme of milestone years. Normally, my birthdays tend to result in me crying, hyper-sensitive and most likely super annoying to everyone around me. Birthdays have always made me over analyze my life, my friends, my career–they are like an annual review that I’m never prepared for. Coupled with the extreme sugar high followed by the blowing crash that results from eating more crap on that day than I do all year long, I tend to fall apart. This year however, I was okay. I ate my cake, drank some drinks, celebrated with friends, and tried to drop my pencil every time I went to write on my metaphorical birthday shit list. As the great Iconapop* sings, “I don’t care! I love it!” I don’t know what she loves, but like her, I decided that I too, don’t care. My birthday week coupled with my looming unemployment should have been a stressor. Another season of the television show I work on came to an end last week. Last year at this time, I underwent my own (Television) Seasonal Depression. I was a ball of anxiety and I desperately missed having a steady job. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t fully suppress my TSD; I’m bummed that not having a weekly paycheck means putting my online shopping habit on a major hold (I’m talking, unsubscribe from daily emails-delete my credit card info from their files-hold). But right now, I feel okay! Sure, my friends are all getting married or getting knocked up (on purpose, no less), and getting paid good money, but I’m not the least bit jealous. I am severely underpaid (if paid at all) and severely single but therein lies excitement. What is next for me? Hell, if I know. Will I ever make it as a television writer? Stay tuned. Will I find a boyfriend, a husband, a sugar daddy? Who knows, but I think I may give this online dating stuff a whirl (if nothing else, girl’s gotta eat, right?). I’m going to take this next change, and look at it as good one. And speaking of change, I decided to update my blog with a new name, a new format, and I lost the repetitive hook of “So today I…” for the start of my entries. I have a lot of time on my wrinkly, old lady hands, so expect to hear more from me. Kidding (about the hands)! 28 is the new 18–that’s what they say (and by “they,” it’s pretty much just me). Is this acceptance of my situation a sign of maturity? Or am I avoiding maturity by choosing this path? Ya know what, I don’t care, I love it! And this time, “it” is my life!
*I would like to offer Iconapop a special thanks for creating such inspirational lyrics. If you don’t know the song, download it. It’s seriously catchy. Like mono at an 8th grade dance, catchy.