And Now We Are 45

Today I turn 45, and in lieu of the traditional god-awful birthday selfie, you get a semi-awful birthday close-up of my cat saying Good Morning.

Gods, it’s been a year. The last twelve months have seen plagues and floods, a bunch of books getting published, a couple of ambitions projects started (and, currently, shelved for a restart once my schedule clears up in June). I got married to my beloved last Halloween, got a job with Brisbane Writers Festival, and have spent a good chunk of time trying to manage the ongoing whiplash of trying to figure out the rapidly changing landscape of existing in 2022.

I rather failed to finish my PhD, but it’s getting close. Sooooo goddamned close.

Tomorrow it’ll be three years since my dad passed away. It’s also three years since my sister went through the surgery that rendered her cancer free. I was already weird about birthday celebrations, but it’s been damn confusing since 2019, and I still haven’t quite figured it out.