Weight Lifted

I knew that a good portion of my ennui, frustration and general frustration of the last week plus was wrapped up in the fact that my birthday and Patriot Day were fast approaching.

I don't think I gave it as much credence as I should have because it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders when my birthday actually did come. I think it was really the anticipation of the day, the flipping over of another number on my cosmic timecard as I inched to the last step before hitting forty years old next year.

And that seems almost ludicrous when typed out. I'm going to turn 40 next year. Forty. How in the hell did I get here? I fully expected to punch out in my 20's or early 30's. Not on purpose but just because of the manner in which I lived my life. I'm not the only one either. I've had conversations with my brother about those years when there was speculation about the source of my deathwish.

But the reality of my reality is that my birthday has become a source of dread, not something I look forward to in pretty much anyway anymore. The tragic terrorist attacks are part of it, of course, but I think there's also an element of regret in that the years keep passing me by and there's still so much left that I want to do, want to accomplish and want to experience.

Now being two days beyond my birthday, I am having a hard time even recollecting the doom and gloom that followed me around for the last few days leading up to 9/11. One thing that really did help was that I got quite alot of happy birthday wishes via email, phone, twitter and directly. Its nice to know that other folks are thinking about you, even if your head is stuck in a toxic cloud.

And my demeanor is returned to my normal, optimistic and generally pretty happy self which is good because I missed me.
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