I'd feel a lot better about "Middle Aged" if it implied monks copying illuminated manuscripts and dudes in armor konking peasants on the head to take their levy of tax. Alas, instead, it seems to imply rebelling against a stultifying conventional life. At least I can say this - I do not have a stultifying conventional life, nor am I likely to any time soon. There are too many adventures around the corner to be bothered with white-picket fences, squalling children and a dowdy mate. I suppose I could deal with an F. Scott Fitzgeraldish marriage replete with witty remarks, fights that are the gossip of society, and lots of glamorous dinner parties. As the probability of such a match occuring is vanishingly small, I'll have to settle with the Lost Boy lifestyle that has worked quite well for me so far.
I don't feel like I'm at a serious age. I don't feel much different than I did ten years ago, frankly. And honestly, except for the wretched black hole that was May-ish, this last year must have been one of, if not the, very best years I've ever had. Over the weekend I gave some thought about what made it such a good one - and there's no one thing. Romantically it was basically a disaster, but professionally and financially a stunning success. And make no mistake - although I am not by nature particularly materialistic (though not wholly un-materialistic, either. I mean, I love my gadgets...) having enough money to take care of everything and plenty to spare really does a lot to ease one's mind. So many things that would otherwise be stressful are no longer a concern - and so many fun things which would otherwise have been impossible are now possible. So getting a good, high-paying job has been a big part of why 34 was such a good year. But also, I'm finally settled in to my new home and new city. I've made a big passel of great friends out here too - and there's a lot to be said for getting out in to new circles of people. I've learned a lot about myself, and in doing so, made some exellent friends. I've said it before and I'll say it again - the greatest of my blessings is the company I keep.
It's not been without trials, of course. Getting my heart broken twice in the same year was no picnic, and the attendant mess it caused as I put the pieces back together was hurtful not just to myself. Again the care and support of my excellent friends was immensely valuable. In grappling with the ensuing depression, I realized the family monster is still alive and well - but I also know I can deal with it if and when I have to. The ordeal of the House of Flying Scissors was not quite over as of my birthday last year - but it was soon resolved even if it brought to light the lack of regard in which my West Coast family holds me. But these troubles were minor, and I've mostly managed to keep in perspective just how trifling they are compared to my many blessings. I use that word a lot ..."blessings". Things are pretty damned good when I have to worry about over-using the word "blessings". Last year was stellar - I think this one is going to be even better.