In other words, fifty-three.

Last week I went into my IMDb account to check some things.
And my eye fell on this:

IMBd registration date: 12 Oct 1999

To get the measure of how differently young I am.

I really don’t want to celebrate it this year, my birthday.
I can’t even say why: it’s more of a general feeling, which started with the New Year, that this year will not be good.
To be honest, there have already been a few events that weren’t strictly positive.

I never imagined myself at 53. I certainly wouldn’t have imagined myself as an obese old and ugly woman, but there are so many other things that I wouldn’t have imagined happening, which all in all give me hope that things will change again, maybe for the better.

I don’t have big things to tell or budgets to make, just small, futile things.

For example, I have finished translating all 1130 posts on this blog into English.
If you see any bullshit, let me know.

I’m struggling with another plugin (yes, yes, I know), which I won’t post on the WordPress directory to take inventory of films, TV series, books and music. I’m at the point where I’m swearing at Goodreads, which, bless them, no longer has an API and exporting one’s list of books is, to continue with French, photonic shit.
If anyone is interested, let me know.

I am very grateful to all those who sent gifts: they are always appreciated, but in my wishlist, there are also small things that cost relatively little because the thought is enough. Even a postcard would be enough, and, come to think of it, it would be great to receive a postcard.

And finally, happy birthday to me; I blow out the candles and make a wish.

(The first person to wish me Happy Easter instead of Happy Birthday is a dead person. And then don’t say I didn’t warn you)