I haven’t blogged much recently for a couple of reasons.
1. I’m not really doing a whole lot.
2. Except for reading, and I don’t really want to blog about the books I’m reading. And playing Candy Crush Saga, but I don’t think being stuck on Level 60 for 3 days is really compelling writing material.
3. The things that are on my mind are, well, uncomfortable.
I don’t really like to whine here about my personal life (at least I hope I haven’t made a habit about that, political rantings aside) because I know plenty of people have a way worse lot than I. And because my mom reads this regularly and I don’t really want her to freak out about the inner workings of my brain, or react to them in any other way. But without students to distract me, I’m getting pretty good at throwing daily pity parties for myself about what will happen in 34 days.
I will turn 40.
I try to deflect. I tell my parents they must feel crazy old since they now have a daughter in her 40s. I tell my sister that she must feel crazy old since she’s married to a Lt. Col. in the Air Force, and I can remember when our own father pinned on Lt. Col. and he was soooooooo old. I tell my other sister that she must feel crazy old since her oldest kid is finishing junior high next year.
These same markers of what should make me feel old are completely absent from my life. The only thing that really makes me feel old, at least on a cognitive level, is when I’ve been sitting too long or in bed too long and my joints start to hurt. Or, conversely, when I start to feel like the grandparents in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory kinda had a nice life, staying in bed all day.
Other than that, I don’t feel old.
But 40 approaches, ready or not, and I hyperventilate a little about it each day. And since I’m not currently in therapy, writing becomes the therapy. So for the next month, I’ll be blogging about all things age, and probably all things Mormon, because let me tell you…I wonder if 80% of my angst about being 40 and single has to do more with the fact that I’m Mormon, and less to do with the fact that I’m 40 and single. And since I’m revising my book, I’ll probably throw in an excerpt here and there just to mix things up.
Someone once told me that her 40s was when she finally felt like she didn’t have to please people, that she started living her life for herself, and stopped caring about what people thought of her. Which is why I will probably eat like a Hobbit on my birthday: sushi for lunch, Cheesecake Factory for Second Lunch (shut up Tolkien purists, I know it’s Second Breakfast. I don’t plan on being awake until 10 or 11. At least I’m currently planning on getting out of bed in the first place.), Mother India for dinner, and half a jello cake for Second Dinner.
I will try to keep some days lighter than others, and if you don’t want to read a month’s worth of therapy about being old and Mormon and single, then come back in August, when I’ll be back to blogging about TV and school and movies and whatever else.
In the meantime…it’s 8:15, so I should probably go to bed. You know how it is with the old.