So yeah, it’s my birthday.
Birthdays were kinda fun until my twenties ran thin, and then I hit my thirties… and they’ve run dry and a bit less celebratory as well. Once I became a dad, the birthdays that I’ve most enjoyed have been my son’s.
Before this sounds all depressing (which it certainly is), I have the fact that I finally feel like I’ve been hitting my stride over the past few years. It feels good to be able to say that we’re putting out our fourth, fully self-funded book. (And we’re not rich folk, either.) It’s never felt better being the imaginer that I am.
It’s also of some relief that artists and writers can go on and on, producing real work for decades beyond my own. There are very few of us who bloom like athletes when we’re 17. Art and craft take far more time to develop.
One reason that I work so hard on this stuff is that I feel like the clock is ticking, and I’ve got a lot more to say and do and create. I’ve always felt that way, but I was never able to build anything big enough worth looking at.
(Not bad for a kid who decided to be done before he was 18. Glad I was wrong about that.)
I’ll have a good birthday. I can feel it.
This ramble of jumble is sponsored by Clown Bite.