It's my birthday today.
Turning the big 30!
Damn, I remember being 17, thinking about what I'd be doing at 30.
Optimistically, I imagined being a successful designer or illustrator. I may have imagined being a photographer. But most of all I imagined that I would be old. Not rickety-old, but old. I imagined I might be married, maybe with a lil'Joe or two running around. I might've fantasized about being rich and famous (still do).
Actually, my life isn't too different from how I imagined it. I'm not "old," but I feel much more ,... experienced. Not married, no kids, but I'm with a woman I love. We have 2 cats and an old dog, which are sorta like lil'Joes (lil'punks). I'm not a successful designer, but I did just design a logo for a chiropractor. I'm not rich or famous, but I'm a professional artist (a small newspaper photographer counts right? kinda?).
30 years of life. It's a miracle. I'm short a mom, one grandpa, one grandma and an aunt. I've gained a million friends, zero enemies. I make a living, albeit barely. I create art. I learn something new amost everyday. I have a thousand hobbies. I'm a winning poker player, albeit in small stakes. I am a valued employee at my place of work. I earn a living. I'm a competent skier. I can spend multiple days in the wilderness with only what I carry to sustain me. I can make an argument for or against nearly anything. I love animals, and they love me. I've rated 2,824 movies on Netflix. I didn't vote for the Dubya.
Most of all, I have no desire to kill myself, so life can't be that bad.