As the number grows, reflection begins.
So... 34.
That's some number. Frankly, I had just gotten used to 33. I kind of liked 33... it has a bright, shiny, happy look to it. 34 looks so much more industrial, hard, edgy to me. Ha. Me, talking about design. Funny.
So... 34.
I really enjoyed being 33. I had a lot of really amazing things happen to me when I was 33. I mean, holy fuck life changing things.
Like having wonderful amazing people enter my life, and touch me with their presence. Relationships that have come and gone, but managed to keep connection and care and promise of fun and good in the future. New relationships that are now, and happening, and growing, with a wonderful amazing "niece" who will likely be around my life for a long long time.
Like living with my partner for more than a year. Having my love, kathryntact with me day in and day out. Acting as my rock, as my teammate, as my partner in life and crime and joy and sad and the absolute craziness that is our very beings. Filling my life with amazing happiness, stability, comfort, safety, and the knowledge that I am with my soul mate.
And then there were the things that not as many people know. Things I haven't written about, because 33 was a year of nesting. A year of retreating from the world, from my public persona, and living quietly out of the spotlight. I've kept some things to myself... but I'm 34 now. Time to share.
Time to share things like how when I was 33, I went from a person who had a job to a person who truly has a career. I went from having a lame word like "supervisor" in my title, and somehow managed to exchange it for something as lofty as "Vice President." Me, a VP. Who would have thunk it? I mean, really?
Or... the fact that when I entered the age of 34, I no longer smoked. That for the last week of 33, I had begun the process to stop smoking, and that I can now say that I have not had a cigarette for my entire 34-year-old being. That despite being told by the instruction manual that I would be wearing the patch for 3 months or even more, in less than I week I am patch-less.
The fact that I am not doing it alone, that my love is doing it with me... and we haven't killed each other.
So... 34.
I enter this age more of an adult than I think I have ever been. A hard working, career-minded person who is dedicated to being a VP, perhaps slightly more than I am being Boymeat... someone who is finally taking charge of my willpower and his health and has stopped a filthy habit that I enjoyed so much, yet knew would kill me. A harder working Phil, ready for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Hi 34. Let's see how you fit.
That's some number. Frankly, I had just gotten used to 33. I kind of liked 33... it has a bright, shiny, happy look to it. 34 looks so much more industrial, hard, edgy to me. Ha. Me, talking about design. Funny.
So... 34.
I really enjoyed being 33. I had a lot of really amazing things happen to me when I was 33. I mean, holy fuck life changing things.
Like having wonderful amazing people enter my life, and touch me with their presence. Relationships that have come and gone, but managed to keep connection and care and promise of fun and good in the future. New relationships that are now, and happening, and growing, with a wonderful amazing "niece" who will likely be around my life for a long long time.
Like living with my partner for more than a year. Having my love, kathryntact with me day in and day out. Acting as my rock, as my teammate, as my partner in life and crime and joy and sad and the absolute craziness that is our very beings. Filling my life with amazing happiness, stability, comfort, safety, and the knowledge that I am with my soul mate.
And then there were the things that not as many people know. Things I haven't written about, because 33 was a year of nesting. A year of retreating from the world, from my public persona, and living quietly out of the spotlight. I've kept some things to myself... but I'm 34 now. Time to share.
Time to share things like how when I was 33, I went from a person who had a job to a person who truly has a career. I went from having a lame word like "supervisor" in my title, and somehow managed to exchange it for something as lofty as "Vice President." Me, a VP. Who would have thunk it? I mean, really?
Or... the fact that when I entered the age of 34, I no longer smoked. That for the last week of 33, I had begun the process to stop smoking, and that I can now say that I have not had a cigarette for my entire 34-year-old being. That despite being told by the instruction manual that I would be wearing the patch for 3 months or even more, in less than I week I am patch-less.
The fact that I am not doing it alone, that my love is doing it with me... and we haven't killed each other.
So... 34.
I enter this age more of an adult than I think I have ever been. A hard working, career-minded person who is dedicated to being a VP, perhaps slightly more than I am being Boymeat... someone who is finally taking charge of my willpower and his health and has stopped a filthy habit that I enjoyed so much, yet knew would kill me. A harder working Phil, ready for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Hi 34. Let's see how you fit.