I’m officially 34.

I made it, guys. I made it. I know a lot of you thought I might’ve walked in front of something or off of something or between two somethings by now but BWHAHAHA in your face! I haven’t. Not yet. It’s coming, but I’m 34 going strong! It feels a lot like 33 and 32 and even 31… NOT 30. At 30, I felt shitty. I felt all the guilt of reaching a milestone-age and not reaching any major milestones (still kinda do). Also, the Firehouse guy gave my sandwich to the wrong person on the big day ☹

Now I’m in my “mid-thirties” and still feel pretty much the same. I have no clue what I’m doing with my life (yay!) but at least Batman and I are making this thing legal, so my non-directional dayjobness will be his problem too. So will my student debt. Haha, sucka! But that’s on him. He asked. I said yes. It’s a done deal. The dress has been purchased, and there’s no going back now, especially since we’ve spent the last twelve years together. We’re here. We’ve made it. We’re doing this thing. Plus, he’s deadest on the honeymoon. Now that he’s knows we’re seeing the USS Arizona and USS Missouri, there’s no way this wedding is *not* happening (we’re honeymooning in Ohau…not some weird ship graveyard…just want that clarified.)

I will say, Batman (like so many of you) has been a champion of mine. Occasionally, when I’m lurking in Facebook writing groups, I come across a rant that someone’s family or partner doesn’t support their writing, or makes them feel like their passion is their hobby. It sucks reading those. It makes me want to jump through their screen and hug them because it IS important and their writing DOES matter. But I never feel like that. Batman has never made me feel low for living the dayjob—writing-night lifestyle, especially since the latter generates zero revenue. But it’s okay. It’s what I want to do with my life. Plus, it’s this or the lottery to get us into our fancy castle-mansion, and we don’t even play. So, maybe if I could get smart with marketing my books and doing this whole indie author thing, I might become a self-made billionaire. It could totally happen, so Batman’s on board with this plan too. We could get to our castle-mansion via my writing. It’s possible.

Just need my big break, guys. 😊

(or a little break. I’ll take what I can get)

But until then, it’s the non-directional dayjobness until I figure something out. Or win the lottery. Or discover a royal relative in Genovia. I’m sure I must be related to someone famous… Come on, I’m 34…they should’ve found me by now. Well, maybe 35 is my lucky year. Guess we’ll see. Either way, Batman is along for the ride, so at least we’ll figure it out together. (Insert sappy music)

Oh, and before I forget…

What does a caped crusader get his blushing 34 year old fiancé for her birthday:

YES. A Giant plush smiling vagina. Compliments of iheartguts. No, this isn’t derogatory or rude or anything like that. This is something we both chuckled over and something I’d said I wanted. This is love. (Insert Sweet music)