On ageing

Well, Antisocial September started with a little twist or three. Nasty stinking lurgi. (Note to self: next time you find yourself sandwiched between two colleagues both with colds for a few days, try taking the echinacea early, okay?) Which definitely boosted the antisocial quotient*, and got me out of running the 10km race for which I was most certainly not prepared, but didn't do much for the productivity.

Second twist: turns out I have a prior engagement next weekend that I'd forgotten all about. Well, okay. I had counted on one social activity for the month, so I guess the universe has just bumped it from one weekend to the next.

Third twist: suddenly I have a bunch of freelance work. More than I had anticipated. This is always good news, but it will really cut into my knitting time.** (Not to mention the hoped for productivity on other fronts.) Ah well. Time to test that new feng shui, eh?

Anyway. All that bed time, plus a couple of truly delicious long conversations with faraway friends, plus considering other recentish conversations with less faraway friends, and I have been pondering some Happy Thoughts. Bear with me.

Growing up rather rocks.

Starmadeshadow recently mentioned, casually, that she noticed she was much more unflappable now than, say, five years ago. As for instance, getting on the wrong train and ending up in a very wrong and unfamiliar place... then: Eeep! Now: *shrug* Okay. Dealing.

And I thought, yes. Quite. And a related point: now, we have a bit more cash, which also helps with the problem solving. We may not be exactly free from pecuniary distress, but parting with an unbudgeted tenner doesn't hurt so much. This is, when you think about it, a really rather great pleasure.

Plus, you find out that there's more to you than you thought. You can look back and think, huh. Ten years ago, I never would have imagined I would [run a race/move to another country on a moment's notice/get married/start a business/like wearing high heels/insert your own surprise discovery here]. I wonder what I'm going to surprise myself with in the next ten years?

You get a bit of perspective. You realise that, no, you aren't quite the exceptional [knitter/writer/business genius/insert your own secret ambition here] you thought you might be, there are others who have way more talent than you and are doing more with it, but hey: you can still do your thing, your way, and that will be Just Fine.

And there is also the sudden discovery that, while you may not be doing anything that will make headlines, somehow you have developed a respectable career while you weren't looking. Suddenly you feel a bit proud of where you are and what you've done. And even more strikingly, who you know. They're just the same old friends you've had for a decade, but hang on, what happened here... they are published poets, awardwinning journalists, entrepreneurs, publishers; your actual Success Stories. It's most peculiar.

So here's to us, friends. We done good. Here's to being 30-something. (And for the 20-somethings reading this: trust me. You have a lot to look forward to. You may not be able to see how you'll get there from where you are, but that's the beauty of it: it will happen anyway. Relax and enjoy the journey.)

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* Would you believe Beloved won't let me kiss him at all when I'm sick? Not even a little bit. He also gets all grouchy about me "breathing on his pillow". I mean, aren't lovers supposed to share everything? EV-erything? Germs included?
** After waaaay too long working on ridiculously tiny needles, on projects with a halflife of approximately a century***, I have now cast on for a huuuuge chunky coat that's just whizzing by. Cast on: Monday. Progress so far: one sleeve and half of one front. Oh yeah. That's more like it.
*** One of them has reached the sewing up stage - for a second time - and I am pondering its Divers Imperfections and considering tossing the whole thing. Grrrrr.