Since most of my friends are over 50 (and several over 70), I found it refreshing to read a piece about aging from the perspective of 29-year-old who is also a fellow playwright.
Marissa Skudlarek, growing old thoughtfully.
In the two weeks since I turned 29, I completed a draft of my first new full-length play in five years, and discovered a secret place to pick blackberries.
If I’m being honest with myself, the blackberries sometimes feel like an even better achievement than the play.
I’ve been thinking a lot about time passing lately: cycles, parallels, how the present moment feels like a tiny, dainty pinprick caught between the vastness of the past and future. (The main character of the play I just completed does a lot of thinking along those lines too, as the director of my staged reading pointed out. Well, I put a lot of myself into her.) My birthday is in the summer and I moved to San Francisco in the summer too, nearly eight years ago. People are moving away, or moving on to different projects…
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