It's my birthday

Well, it hasn't quite hit midnight here in the southwest, but since I was born in D.C. it's actually a few hours into my "special day."

I'm not sure how I feel about being 43. It's an awfully big number. 43 of anything would be a whole lot. Sometimes you feel like giving a few back.

I'm definitely not anywhere near where I thought I'd be when I thought ahead to the abstract idea of "in my 40s." People in their 40s have families, kids, responsibilities... they're adults for chrissakes. I don't quite feel adult yet - wonder when that kicks in?

Apparently I'm a "woman," but that moniker just sounds strange. Heaven help me I'm quite possibly "middle-aged" too; if I make it to 86.

I don't feel old. Well, sometimes physically I do, but I mean emotionally. Not that I'm going to develop an interest in Reggaetón and starting wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothes, but neither have I taken up bridge and wearing lavender. I'm just graduating from college! I'm starting a career! So what if it's for the second (third?) time so far?

Interesting thing is, none of this feels like an identity or mid-life crisis any more. (I have to admit quitting, selling, and moving did feel like a crisis of sorts.) I've always been somewhat of a free spirit with wonderlust and an inability to settle down. And God knows I've never followed the beaten path. Not quite sure I took the one less traveled either... but I've certainly hacked away at an awful lot of underbrush in my time.

I'll tell you one thing about being "in your 40s." You develop some cojones. You are who you are, take it or leave it. It's nice.

Wow. I'm 43. What a weird, unsettling, disturbing yet normal feeling it is. I sure as hell do not know what to make of it.