But yes. Only sort of, because people keep reminding me that I've grown older again. Like my parents. And Facebook friends.
And Wes.
Who is adamant that we celebrate somehow or another, in spite of my bout with Plane Plague and his family's absenteeism.
This lack of fanfare is actually sort of normal for me, though. I tend to forget my birthday, as generally there isn't much going on of note in terms of celebration. It's always very busy around my birthday and rarely because of my birthday. Last year was sort of an exception, with Wes visiting me for the occasion. Normally, it's just another day in the Life of Kate, so I tend to half-ignore it.
Some people may find that sort of behavior strange, but I'm perfectly okay with this (unintentional) tradition of treating my birthday like any other day. To be honest, I'm pretty damn lucky and receive what many would consider "special treatment" on regular days of the year from the people I love, so making a birthday "extra special" seems maybe just a bit greedy on my part. It's not like getting older is a huge accomplishment these days, after all. Especially not with all the advances in modern medicine. haha
All the same, this is my first birthday in Australia, so maybe it does deserve just a little bit of extra attention and reflection.
This time last year, Wes and I were running around Houston, trying to get a tattoo artist to do the piece I'd designed for the center of my back. It took multiple trips, more phone calls than I can even remember and nearly half a week of constant reminders to the artist to finally get it done. And then, I had to have another artist intervene do to it instead.
We witnessed a drug deal outside the tattoo studio while we were waiting one day (which was clumsy and hilariously stereotypical), we ate sadly lackluster burgers at the Carriage House Cafe and Wes learned that not all horses are high-strung psychopaths. That same week, we also saw our first concert together (Orphaned Land at Fitzgerald's) and he went sightseeing with an old friend.
It's been a bit more than a year since we first met face to face (complete with airport awkwardness), though we've known one another much, much longer than that. And it looks like we'll know one another for a long time to come, yet.
In the last year, I've also left two different jobs, discovered that I have a (frighteningly common) autoimmune disorder and had my first official "surgery". I dyed my hair for the first time (well, for the first time that it actually stayed), got my first (intentional) tattoo and finished more sewing projects than I can count off the top of my head. I've met new people, made new friends and left old social circles behind.
I've been out of graphic design work for nearly a year now and I'm still a bit fuzzy about what I want to do with my career. I'm still uncertain whether graphic design is still where I want to be, but I haven't fallen out of love with photography and I've begun taking on more challenging sewing projects bit by bit.
If I had to apply a rating to the past twelve months of my life, I think I'd give them a pretty solid eight out of ten stars. There have been some down points and some scares, but I finally feel like I'm catching up with myself and settling into where I should be. It could be the iced tea speaking (because I have been desperately deprived of sugar the last few days), but I feel good about where I am and where I'm going.
Now all I need to do is find a job, right? Maybe when I blow out the candles tonight (or candle, as the case may be), I'll wish for one.
