The obligatory "another year older" post
Jul. 16th, 2012 08:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missroseroseMy birthday passed without much fanfare, but pleasantly enough nonetheless. I've been looking after the gallery all weekend while the boss is out of town; Friday and Saturday are both long days, and Saturday especially was hectic as it was an art-walk day. But Sunday was fairly quiet, which I appreciated; it gave me time to catch up on paperwork as well as more generally recover.
The lack of fanfare did not, however, mean that the day went unmarked. Brian was kind enough to take some pictures of my new hair color (which finally matched a shirt I got several months ago at the clothing swap but hadn't yet worn) with his fancy camera. My favorite looked much like something you'd see in a catalog, or possibly a photo-resume headshot. (Click to embiggen - the high-res version really makes a difference, here.)
I especially love how, when I cropped it down for an icon, it looked like a completely different picture.
After I closed up the gallery, we went to Screaming Banshee Pizza, where they were unfortunately out of the Thai Me Up pizza (my favorite, and not just for the name), but made us a tasty-enough pie nonetheless. And when we got home I discovered that Brian had made me an honest-to-blog red velvet cake, from the famous 1928 Waldorf-Astoria recipe, with buttercream frosting. (I felt a little bad that he'd gone to all that effort, since buttercream is a cast-iron pain in the ass to make and I actually prefer the more common cream-cheese frosting, but I can't fault his results - the texture is absolutely perfect.) We settled down with that and some fizzy red wine and watched The Artist, which was delightful - especially so to Brian, who I think got it mixed up with another movie when he was reading reviews, as he was convinced it was a Pretentious and Depressing Film about Man's Inhumanity to Man. I'm glad I exercised birthday privileges and insisted we watch it.
I guess that means I'm 29 now. I feel a little different about that than I did when I turned 28, though I'm not quite sure how to articulate it. It's not like I was being all drama-filled and "Woe is me!" about 28, but there was a definite shift in perception - maybe just that 30 was suddenly within spitting distance, which kind of put the final nail in the youthful "I'm going to live forever" coffin. Comparatively, I was downright Buddhist about 29. "Time is a river and constantly moving. Attachment to anything as inherently transient as youth will only create suffering. Do not try to dam the river; instead, let the water carry you. Om."
I don't know what prompted the change. I've said before that I don't mind getting older, and mostly that's true (though I can't say as I particularly look forward to physical decrepitude, especially having just recently experienced the spasming soreness that is throwing out your back - more yoga for me!). I like having had real world experiences to draw upon when forming opinions. I like the broadening of perspective that comes with said experiences. I like having had the time to fine-tune my preferences and desires, even if that means I lose a certain amount of the impulsive enthusiasm of youth. And I like the sense that there are things that I'm getting really good at, because I've practiced them so much over time. (It helps me to stick with the things I'm still learning, since I know that eventually I'll get there.)
I think picking up the guitar's helped a lot, too. At my 28th birthday, there weren't very many things I was actively working on; mostly I felt like I was treading water. In November I did NNWM and came out with 50,000 words and a rough outline for an epic fantasy series that I think has real potential; even if I'm not certain if/when I'll pick it up again. In early May I bought a guitar and started teaching myself; since then, I think only one day's gone by where I haven't picked a guitar up and practiced at least some. Now I have an even nicer guitar (thanks, Mum!), and am nearing performance readiness on two songs, though I still have a good bit to learn. Brian and I are making plans to move to Seattle in the next year or two. Things are moving forward...perhaps in more of a labyrinth shape than a straight line, but moving nonetheless.
All that said, I think that I'm going to tentatively plan a long weekend in Vegas for my birthday next year. (In all fairness, I'd really rather head to the clubs on Ibiza, especially as I'll likely soon be too old to enjoy the experience properly, but given the financial and geographical restrictions, Vegas is a somewhat more reasonable goal.) 30 is a milestone that deserves celebration, and I've never been to Sin City; and while I fully realize it will be an assault on all possible definitions of good taste, I do have a certain fondness for kitsch and popular entertainment, especially when it's both self-aware and so completely over-the-top as to become a form of meta-art (viz. Lady Gaga). Would anyone be interested in possibly joining us? When pricing out hotel rooms for DefCon Brian discovered that it's cheap as chips to stay at one of the casino hotels (hardly surprising - they know they'll make it back from you downstairs), and it'd be fun to meet up for a birthday dinner at one of the fancier restaurants and then perhaps go see one of the shows (I've wanted to see Penn & Teller for a decade now) and go out dancing.
The lack of fanfare did not, however, mean that the day went unmarked. Brian was kind enough to take some pictures of my new hair color (which finally matched a shirt I got several months ago at the clothing swap but hadn't yet worn) with his fancy camera. My favorite looked much like something you'd see in a catalog, or possibly a photo-resume headshot. (Click to embiggen - the high-res version really makes a difference, here.)
I especially love how, when I cropped it down for an icon, it looked like a completely different picture.
After I closed up the gallery, we went to Screaming Banshee Pizza, where they were unfortunately out of the Thai Me Up pizza (my favorite, and not just for the name), but made us a tasty-enough pie nonetheless. And when we got home I discovered that Brian had made me an honest-to-blog red velvet cake, from the famous 1928 Waldorf-Astoria recipe, with buttercream frosting. (I felt a little bad that he'd gone to all that effort, since buttercream is a cast-iron pain in the ass to make and I actually prefer the more common cream-cheese frosting, but I can't fault his results - the texture is absolutely perfect.) We settled down with that and some fizzy red wine and watched The Artist, which was delightful - especially so to Brian, who I think got it mixed up with another movie when he was reading reviews, as he was convinced it was a Pretentious and Depressing Film about Man's Inhumanity to Man. I'm glad I exercised birthday privileges and insisted we watch it.
I guess that means I'm 29 now. I feel a little different about that than I did when I turned 28, though I'm not quite sure how to articulate it. It's not like I was being all drama-filled and "Woe is me!" about 28, but there was a definite shift in perception - maybe just that 30 was suddenly within spitting distance, which kind of put the final nail in the youthful "I'm going to live forever" coffin. Comparatively, I was downright Buddhist about 29. "Time is a river and constantly moving. Attachment to anything as inherently transient as youth will only create suffering. Do not try to dam the river; instead, let the water carry you. Om."
I don't know what prompted the change. I've said before that I don't mind getting older, and mostly that's true (though I can't say as I particularly look forward to physical decrepitude, especially having just recently experienced the spasming soreness that is throwing out your back - more yoga for me!). I like having had real world experiences to draw upon when forming opinions. I like the broadening of perspective that comes with said experiences. I like having had the time to fine-tune my preferences and desires, even if that means I lose a certain amount of the impulsive enthusiasm of youth. And I like the sense that there are things that I'm getting really good at, because I've practiced them so much over time. (It helps me to stick with the things I'm still learning, since I know that eventually I'll get there.)
I think picking up the guitar's helped a lot, too. At my 28th birthday, there weren't very many things I was actively working on; mostly I felt like I was treading water. In November I did NNWM and came out with 50,000 words and a rough outline for an epic fantasy series that I think has real potential; even if I'm not certain if/when I'll pick it up again. In early May I bought a guitar and started teaching myself; since then, I think only one day's gone by where I haven't picked a guitar up and practiced at least some. Now I have an even nicer guitar (thanks, Mum!), and am nearing performance readiness on two songs, though I still have a good bit to learn. Brian and I are making plans to move to Seattle in the next year or two. Things are moving forward...perhaps in more of a labyrinth shape than a straight line, but moving nonetheless.
All that said, I think that I'm going to tentatively plan a long weekend in Vegas for my birthday next year. (In all fairness, I'd really rather head to the clubs on Ibiza, especially as I'll likely soon be too old to enjoy the experience properly, but given the financial and geographical restrictions, Vegas is a somewhat more reasonable goal.) 30 is a milestone that deserves celebration, and I've never been to Sin City; and while I fully realize it will be an assault on all possible definitions of good taste, I do have a certain fondness for kitsch and popular entertainment, especially when it's both self-aware and so completely over-the-top as to become a form of meta-art (viz. Lady Gaga). Would anyone be interested in possibly joining us? When pricing out hotel rooms for DefCon Brian discovered that it's cheap as chips to stay at one of the casino hotels (hardly surprising - they know they'll make it back from you downstairs), and it'd be fun to meet up for a birthday dinner at one of the fancier restaurants and then perhaps go see one of the shows (I've wanted to see Penn & Teller for a decade now) and go out dancing.
