Two Dozen

Today - well, in an hour - I'm 24.

To be honest, it doesn't seem like a full 365 days since I wished myself a happy 23rd birthday and wrote:

I have some incredibly exciting ideas in my head. My brain has turned into a vibrant, colorful road map of ideas and possibilities rather than some depressingly emo haiku.  I'm finally starting to feel stoked about stuff. 23, I'm really hoping that you're going to bring it and bring it hard.

I don't really have any wise words for my 23-year-old self. I don't wish I did anything differently. Actually, I'd kind of like to take me at 23 out for a drink, give her a good night sleep, and let her be someone else for a day - just so she could see how others see her, and what she's doing.

I'd like to tell 23 that she's working so, so hard, and not to give up.

That little idea you have, 23? It's a good one. It's a really good one.

You've worked harder than you've ever worked before.

23...you did good. You did exactly what you were meant to. You kept your head down, and your worked. You worked and you worked and you worked some more. You didn't write as much about your personal life. You didn't make that much money. You actually didn't even drink that much. (The horror!)

But you were like the Johnny Fucking Apple Seed of your 20s.

You've planted so many seeds for 24...and hopefully by the time 25 takes over, those seeds will have turned into little a little forest. Not a huge forest..but perhaps a forest that somebody else would like to invest in and give you some money to buy a little log cabin with two bedrooms, two baths and south-facing garden...or something.

It's been a short year. Maybe as you age, the years just get shorter.

But, I feel like I did a lot in the last 365 days. I used my time wisely.

I suppose that's all I can really ask for. Isn't it?