My birthday was yesterday, so I’m officially 29. It’s weird because it’s not weird. I mean, I thought I’d feel older or wiser or different, knowing that 30 is so close, but really? I don’t feel different at all. I’m okay with 29. I like 29. What I do feel, though, is sick and that’s kind of annoying.
My cold, however, did not stop me from dressing as Katniss for work:
I’m pretty sure the best part of the day was when a little girl looked at me, then grabbed her dad’s sleeve and loudly whispered “DAD, THAT’S KATNISS!” I almost cried.
Also, I decided last minute to actually do NaNoWriMo. Last year I was in it on my own – this year a few friends were convinced to try. I’ve had an idea floating around my head for quite some time, so I figured – hey, why not. So, I’m starting. I’m not as psyched as I was last time (and I think that’s mainly because I had never finished a novel before at that point), but I am committed to my story. I like my story. And I know that even if I don’t “win” NaNo, I’ll still complete it. And I feel good about that. (Friend me, won’t you?) Also, I apparently really like short sentences this morning.
So, I’m starting 29 with a new story, and the excitement of that outweighs the annoying cold. Because colds come and go, but stories stick with you forever.
(Please blame my cold for the ridiculously cheesy last line.)