Hard to keep track, ’cause it changes every year.
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For some reason, over the past few months, my age has come up in conversation fairly often. I guess I thought I was getting close enough to my birthday that I needed to round up, so I started telling people that I’m 62 while, technically, I was still 61.
When my birthday came around today, I spent a few hours believing I’d just turned 63.
When I finally did the math (current year minus year of birth), I felt like I’d added an extra year to my life — a bit like the illusion of gaining an hour when “falling back” for Daylight Saving Time. Fiction, for sure, but a pleasant one.
I’ve just spent several long days in conferences with students, talking about working drafts for their educational autobiography assignments. I’m mentally exhausted; it takes a lot of energy to focus, to find a balance of encouragement and critique, and to prioritize what advice would be most helpful. This is especially true over Zoom, which flattens emotion (particularly with the students who don’t turn on their cameras). It’s my favorite part of the job; I like coaching much more than I like judging. But it’s still exhausting.
I reread my post from two years ago —not sure why, but I missed last year — and, while I don’t have a lot to point to as evidence, I have made some progress in recovering my identities.
I’m reading a bit more, though that gets tamped down when the school year starts. Sometimes I just don’t want to read anything after I’ve wrestled to make meaning of student papers. And I’ve been thinking a bit — about trans issues, about the failings of journalism, about creativity, about pragmatism (though I think I’ve given up the “Notes and Thoughts” bit). I’ve certainly managed to reign in the majority of the distraction that I was suffering under. The “malaise” is gone, for the most part. That seems good.
I’m also deeper into guitar. I’ve disassembled a cheap guitar, as part of the process of learning to paint it; it’s mostly sanded, so I’m making progress. I’m also rewiring (again) an old Harmony; something happened to one of the pickups, so I need to rewind it. It’s not an easy process, especially since I don’t want to buy a $600 machine to save one pickup. I have no idea if, or how well, it will work, but I’m learning a lot and having fun.
I’ve been (glacially) recording. This glacial pace is partly because I’m busy, but I also had to switch recording software. The free DAW (Digital Audio Workstation) that I was using — Cakewalk — suddenly announced that they’re going to start charging soon, so I explored a few different DAWs and settled on Studio One (that’s not an affiliate link, by the way). And that, of course, brings with it a bit of a learning curve.
On an unrelated note: I am not happy to announce that I’ve had to give up alcohol, at least for now. I was enjoying my jaunt into mixology, but I’ve unfortunately developed an irregular heartbeat. It’s likely the result of the dosage of my thyroid med; it lowered my Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) to almost zero, which is known to trigger palpitations, et al. We’ve adjusted that, though, and the palpitations haven’t completely gone away. And since alcohol is another common cause, I’m holding off at least until the doctors decide exactly which kind of arrhythmia I have. (There is, apparently, a range of them, and they mean different things.)
So, armed with two new books that my sister (The Awkward Spinster) sent me — Mocktail Party, and Zero-Proof Party (so many parties!) — I’ll see if I can learn to enjoy the dry life. (I am grateful, though, that drying out has not been a struggle for me. As I said, I’m not happy about it, but I’m not suffering from cravings. I know that this isn’t the case for all who want or need to lay off the drinks.)
Anyway, it’s my birthday, and, though the day will be full of teaching and a few stray conferences, I’m generally grateful. That seems a good start as I begin trudging toward 63.
Top photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash