Kittie Litter Box

It’s my birthday eve right now. Thirty-five. Thirty freaking five. It feels weird saying that out loud. 

I don’t like my birthday. At all, actually.

I wish I was one of those people who loved celebrating themselves and their day.  I love celebrating other peoples’ birthdays, but I find it awkward and weird to do it for myself, so much so I wish I could blink and December 3rd of each year would be skipped right on over. 

I suppose that’s just a tad bit dramatic, and if I self-analyze myself (which of course we all know I love to do) it’s simply because I am so very single. 

Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. 

Another year. 

I don’t know if I should reflect back on the past year to all the things that happened in the time I wrote last year’s post, to this moment in time, or perhaps I should look to the future and just focus on what I want to do next year, focus on what I can control. I don’t know. 

And I find the saddest thing about the day is nothing I’ve done in my life seems to matter to me. The only thing that does is this glaring little fact that I’m alone and single and thus can’t stay home alone… because that’s just sad, right? 

In Charleston this past weekend we were dancing at some bar surrounded by people at some ridiculous hour and I had this overwhelming feeling that there was no one waiting for me at home the next day.  Flights were getting canceled everywhere due to the snowstorm, and I just had this overwhelming sense that it didn’t matter if my flight got canceled. Nobody was waiting for me. Nobody is ever waiting for me.  For better or worse, I put a lot of stock in that. 

And this past year… it was a good one. It really was.

For starters, I moved to New York City.  

And more than that, I started to build a real-life for myself here.  It’s been a rollercoaster of ups and downs, but since I was 18 I’ve never taken any money from my parents, and I think it’s important that I stop to reflect that although I’m super single, I’ve created the best life (a good life) for myself alone.  A life that if I don’t meet anyone in, I will be content living in (at least for the time being). 

I traveled a lot this past year. 39 flights to be exact. Some places for work, but mostly to see places and explore.  I went camping alone in the wilderness with bears. That was kinda crazy. Like, I can’t believe I actually did that. And I got over my obsession with my weight and stopped blaming it for things (ie. being single).  

This birthday also marks the eleventh year of writing on this blog. ELEVEN. I can’t believe I’ve written in this space for so long. I wonder if this is officially a hobby of mine?  I’ve been pretty bad at keeping it up to date, but I like this trusty side-kick of mine and am thankful for the few folks out there still reading. 

I guess that’s it. There’s no poetic end. No hopeful goal setting. Just the sound of the clock ticking closer to midnight, and me hoping I wake up on Dec 4th. 

If you can’t do anything about it then let it go. Don’t be a prisoner to things you can’t change. -Tony Gaskins