I am 23, the year of the iron birthday, the gate of darkness. I am ill.
I've been a minor celebrity since I was 23 years old.
I didn't have my first serious boyfriend until I was 23. Then after that, I went out with a guy I'd been best friends with all through drama school.
I have now reached the happy age of 23. No, happy is not quite the right word. At this particular moment I am certainly not happy.
I've been writing full-time since I was 23.
Writing was my first occupation, begun at age 23.
There was a time when I was 23 years old that I thought my career was over because I couldn't move my hand. It turned out it was just a pinched nerve.
When I started at Baruch in January 2002, I was almost 23 years old. I'd previously spent five years as an officer the Israeli Navy. I did what I thought you were supposed to do at that age - a little studying and a lot of trying to have fun.
I didn't get on a plane until I was 23, after I left Oxford and was teaching at Lucy Clayton Secretarial College in London.
I've always looked at 2016, but 2020 is realistic for me. I'll be 23 in 2016, but if I keep on progressing, hopefully 2016 will be a medal chance as well for me.
