Tuesday, February 19, 2013
No time for a proper post, as a four-day weekend frolicking in NYC means I get to spend my actual birthday catching up on all the grading and committee work I neglected during those days. As for moving definitively into my late thirties, I Have Thoughts About That--but for the most part, I'm just happy to be here.
Since my teens, I've always been expecting my death. Not in a dramatic or anxious or depressive way; just in the fatalistic certitude that this would be the plane to crash, or I'd never live to complete X project. Though this conviction is always with me, it seems to strengthen in proportion to how invested I am in completing X--and so it was that Thursday night saw me contemplating leaving written instructions as to the location and state of my book manuscript files. In the end, though, the logic puzzle of what clothes to pack was too preoccupying and I never got around to it. Astonishingly, both my flights took off and landed without incident, and here I am.
I may be less sanguine about aging than I used to be, but it's sure better than the alternative.