What a difference a year makes...

In which I get back on the blog horse and get a little sentimentality all. over. myself.

I acknowledge that I have been an absentee blogger.  Hopefully I can submit the excuse that I have been gloriously, actively busy with Real Life Stuff and get a pass from any of you still hoping to read more here.  As my classes for the Spring come to a close next week, I should start to have more time to keep things up to date.  May is going to be a big month.  I intend to record some of it here.

But... the real reason for this post, is, of course, to talk about my feelings and to remind you all that it was just my birthday, and you're still within the acceptable window to send me any of the posters in Tracy Jordan's dressing room as a birthday gift.  Just kidding.  Although, seriously, if someone can get their hands on a Who Dat Ninja? poster, please tell me how.

This past weekend I celebrated my 27th birthday.  Now, 27 is possibly the least significant birthday milestone I've celebrated so far - I gain no new rights or privileges, and I haven't yet slipped into the "oh god I'm almost 30" despair vortex that I understand comes with turning 28 (right, that's a thing?).  I've been able to rent a car for two years, no big whoop, and I'm still a hearty ways off from being able to run for President, which gives me plenty of time to locate my birth certificate.

Still, measured by one standard this birthday marks the end of one of the biggest years of my life.  That standard being change.

Let's look it over, because I kind of want to see this in writing.

"You're telling me that the reason I'm here could be spine herpes?"

Wherein I return from vacation and go straight to the hospital without passing go or having a ski weekend.

So California was predictably beautiful - I'm pretty sure I want to end up out there if it its deficit hasn't caused it to go full thunderdome by the time I'm through with school and in a place where I get to decide where I want to live.  There's something that's just really nice about walking around in 50 degree weather in January and still hearing people talk about how cold it is.  Y'all soft, west coast.

I was planning, upon my return from the warm wet west, to launch into a series of posts about the psychological and emotional hurdles that I've been going through trying to come to terms with certain aspects of my life as it stands now, namely the facts that I am moving forward (which is excellent) but with a tremendous and unshakable sense of being terribly behind (which is troubling).  There has been a lot of thought of about skin, in particular, physical and otherwise (it's a really versatile metaphor, you know), and how I'm finding I no longer really properly fit my own and I'm not sure whether to expect to anytime soon.  Anyway, all of that is going to have to wait, because something much more fun and interesting went down.