I've always loved the number 42. I balled with it, as you can see to the left. I was 42 because James Worthy from the Showtime Lakers was 42, and I really loved him. That was before he was caught with hookers in every city. Sigh, but that time in my life was untouchable and basketball held salvation. 42 became a magic number for me.
I'll be 42 on Monday. I'm far from a freak out. I think it will be a magic year or at the very least, a good one. In the past, I've had themes for the year starting on my birthday. A couple years ago it was Finish What I Start. Last year was Love What I Got, a variation on love the fuck out it. I've done well with these themes and they really stayed relevant throughout. This year it's Be Brave and Work. This is all in relation to writing, of course, because I know how to work as in pay-the-rent work or suffer-through-it work. I've always been good at that.
When I was in my mid twenties, I went to two different psychics within months of each other. They spoke of my children coming and a relatively good life and when I asked if I'd ever be a successful writer, they told me yes, but not until I was in my forties. One psychic said 42, the other said 45. Man, I was pissed. I was determined to prove them wrong, that hell no was I gonna wait 20 years for that to happen. That didn't work out.
But look everybody, 42 is almost here. I waffle between believing in psychics and not. Honestly, I hadn't really thought about those predictions until recently because I thought writing was a washed-up notion for me about six months ago. We have yet to see if the psychics were on to something, but unless I'm brave and put in the work, I'll just prove them wrong for sure, and not in a good way.
I just want to give a shout out to the forties. Aging has been such a relief to my emotional mind and the clarity of my thoughts in general. The mental self editing has been a miraculous thing in my forties. For that, I'm grateful. I'm just trying to cheat the physical aging now with that food and exercise thing. I can't promise I'll be graceful in all forms of getting older.
Come on! Converge, All Things!
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