It's not my birthday, but I'm going to talk about myself, anyway. At least for a moment.
I moved to San Francisco on November 30, 1996. I was 26 years old, about to turn 27, and my first years in the City were amazing. I was still at the relative beginning of my career, so once I found work, which happened quite quickly, I had to work at some slightly insane times of day. However, I was able to support myself working part-time for my first four years in town. I also was still acting back then, which meant studio classes, play readings in living rooms, four-night per week rehearsals and performances in 50-seat theatre houses, some of which were nestled in the slightly seedier parts of town.
The late 90's in San Francisco were such a crazy good time; I really wish I had appreciated them more. Don't get me wrong, I was very happy to have returned to California after a few too many years in New England, and I was super excited to have become a City by the Bay denizen. I loved my work and my acting habit, and I made friends easily. However, as they say, youth is wasted on the young. Had I known then what I know now, I wouldn't have wasted a millisecond being insecure or worrying about anything. The nightlife also was a kick, of course. "Hipster" was not yet a dirty word, and girls in chunky platformed shoes swarmed the streets alongside boys in bowler shirts. Swing bands were just as likely to play clubs as indie rock acts were, and everyone knew where to get the best burritos after the bars closed.
If I have learned nothing else in my life, I have learned to enjoy the here and now. And that's good news, because even at 42, my life is still a crazy good time, even if it has become somewhat mellow. Believe me, I have no intention of being 60 and wishing I had better appreciated those glory days of 2012.