2003-07-08 5:04 p.m.
year 27 GO!

So, I'm 27.

Birthdays always seem to pop up at strange times. 26 was pretty uneventful, besides the breakup of the house. Tabi and I drank and talked, I saw Andrew for the first (and last) time in 10 years. Not much of a shout, more a whimper.

By comparison, I feel like I've been barraged with love this time round. L had so many little surprises whipped up, it was a relief to sleep in Sunday morning. I'm not complaining; it was mad fun, but such a shock compared to last year, maybe not so much compared to the year before.

We went on a three-hour cruise around the river, had crepes in bed, loads of snogging and cartoons (ZIM!) and movies and so much mushy goodness that anyone watching would have thrown up.

And I don't care. It's fun being like this with her, especially given that this is the longest relationship I've ever had, clocking in at 10 months.

And fuck duration anyway...life with L is the most relaxed place I've ever been. It's not boring, just easy.

She gave me Wonka bars, monkeys, lots of little fun stuff (and R.E.M. tickets for October...RAWK!).

My family? Haven't seen any kind of present yet. Sadly, that's not a huge surprise. At least almost everyone called, which was nice.

Whatever. Going to San Diego with a book in hand is the present I'm giving myself. No matter the outcome, I did it, put out my first book professionally and with some serious style. I see the flaws, I see the total successes, and know what I'm going to have to work harder on the next time out...

...which may be sooner than I would have thought. I'm aiming to put together another book way before next July, not to mention getting one of our old pitches ready to send to Epic, and get more irons in the fire, something I haven't had in a while.

And how am I feeling at 27?

This was a year about learning to trust my instincts. I was right about L from the first moment I met her (along with Des, Veda, and a lot of others I dated this past year), and before the yammerings of fears and insecurity work their voices up to a roar, that quiet kung fu voice in my stomach tells me in a few stoic lines what my heart knows to be true.

These days, it's been telling me that moving in with L will work out well, that working at the Law Firm isn't so horrible, as long as I'm laying the walkway that leads to my exit, that voiceover (especially cartoon voiceover) is a talent I need to revisit and start cultivating, that I need to get out of NYC, but not to somewhere I've before. Vancouver keeps coming to mind.

That voice comes from the same place as my love for Georgia, the home you carry with you. It's dark, old, the voice of dragons, of old storytellers on a million country porches, and of my soul, which I've had a grasp on since I was very young.

No wonder other kids didn't get me.

Bet my drivers would.