sweet sixteen times two plus six

I turn thirty-eight tomorrow, so yeah… I’m getting older. Getting older has, for the most part, never felt the way I imagined it would feel. Mostly, getting older seems to be learning how to play the part of an older person, while underneath I’m still just a kid hoping that nobody will notice. This is obviously something only an older person would be conscious of, and it comes with the realization that maybe everybody is just playing the part of whatever age they are based on whatever they perceived that age to be when they were younger. Or perhaps I’m alone in this perception, and I’ve just revealed something profound about my personality that I should probably talk to a therapist about.

I will say that thirty-seven was generally good to me. I began it as an unemployed, broke, and virtually unknown filmmaker; and I’m ending it as an employed, less-broke, and relatively less unknown filmmaker. It was a good year for my career, and I can only hope that thirty-eight will be even better.

I’m also in love, which I wasn’t a year ago, and I need to get on the subway to meet the object of said love for Korean barbecue right now.

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