When I was a pre-teen, my parents both had their “OVER THE HILL” birthdays. At that time, this meant that they were 40 years old and officially middle-aged. Seriously, mylar balloons and everything.
At that time, they had moved into their second house with their three children and together were operating a private optometry practice in town.
I’ll be 42 in three days. At this time, I have a halfway-inhabited studio apartment in Potrero Hill. I have a part-time job in a warehouse/art space and the rest of the time I’m performing my songs for people in bay area bars, trying to convince people that my experience is still relevant.
I do not say this from a place of sadness or self-pity. It is strictly a fact. If you were to ask me how I feel about it, given the current state of the economy and how artists (female, single, middle-aged artists) are valued in society, I’d tell you (and MEAN it), that I’m solidly still growing and feeling appropriately successful, all things considering. But I’m beginning to become acutely aware that society no longer sees me and my experience in this space as relevant.
But you don’t have to read about it here. Have the auto reader on Medium read it to you while you multitask! I know you are, we ALL are bitch! That’s why we are surviving!! GET IT!!