Missing the red pen

I just had the chance to use my writing/editing skills for the first time in 1.5 years. I loved it. I loved the challenge. I have always loved the making-the-pieces-fit feeling of knowing when you nailed it, made even sweeter when a supervisor tells you that you nailed it.
God, I miss all that. I feel like my thoughts are too many, too varied and too scattered to piece together any decent piece of writing anymore. I don't get much opportunity as it is. It's no longer one of my main duties at work. And editing ... well, I sigh when I think of the times I'd groan about having to edit boring wire stories. I miss that now.
Guess it's the same old tired cliche ... you don't know what you've got until it's gone.

Birthday blues

I just turned 35.
For some reason, saying "thirty-five," whether in my head or out loud, sounds so ... old. For me.
I always found it a cheesy cliche when people pretended to hate their birthdays and bemoan being another year older.
But this year, I get it.
As I've been told, I have a dark and brooding personality. It doesn't take much to put me into a completely black mood.
All these feelings that attached themselves to my 35th birthday have sent me into a black, introspective mood.
I don't feel like I am 35. But not in the good way. Shouldn't I be more mature, mentally and emotionally? Shouldn't I be more secure, stronger, more in control?
I feel like I smacked right into middle age. But I don't feel like I should be that old.
Maybe it's time for meds.

People Whose Names Begin With D Live Shorter Lives | The Frisky

People Whose Names Begin With D Live Shorter Lives The Frisky

As if I needed another reason to be pissy!