An annual observation (In which I redefine success)

Have just got around to updating my profile. There is something very satisfying about changing that "21" to a "22", far more satisfying than the lived experience of being a year older.

I swore to myself, in a not-exactly-New-Year's Resolution, that I would have a story ready and out the door before I stopped being twenty-one. When you've already been legally drinking and driving for a few years (though not, obviously, at the same time), your twenty-first's got to have something happen, right? As the deadline approached, and I fussed over the literature review due the day before my birthday, I thought, "well, maybe sent out *on the actual day*, alright?"

And then the deadline was gone, and it did not happen, though I have the story and the first market picked out, and the final editing almost finished. Instead, I spent a lovely birthday afternoon relaxing and making icons and bases, a new form of cat-vacuuming I blame entirely on mhalachaiswords :~).

And I'm thinking that twenty-two isn't such a bad time to kick-start a career/dream/lifelong occupation, anyway. Deadlines, who needs 'em?