I've officially hit the mid-point of my late 30s this year and, except for a small pre-mid-life crisis a few months ago, I am mostly happy with my life and comfortable in my own skin. Although life hasn't really turned out the way I thought (or feared it might). On the plus side, I DO NOT have 12 cats that I dress up for formal dinners. On the minus side, being a grown-up is not the swirl of black tie benefit galas that my teenaged-self envisioned. (Although, given that I've grown into my introversion, maybe that's actually a plus.)
I still haven't figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I've ruled out veterinarian, fire fighter, astronaut, President, lawyer, computer programmer, and teacher. Farmer, artisan baker, auto mechanic, mosaic artist, librarian, and writer are still on the table though.
I've never met a brick wall I didn't want to bang my head against. Stubborn is my first middle name. Loyal is my second (which, now that I think about it, makes sense since what is loyalty if not altruistic stubbornness?). I am lucky enough to be married to the most patient man in the world, which is how we've managed to stay married for thirteen years and counting.
This journal is my playground - the place I go to make writing fun again. I can only revise the same novel so many times and read so many rejection letters before discouragement and frustration creep in. And I think you'll agree that Tim Riggins is the perfect antidote to discouragement and frustration.