So, it’s my birthday on Wednesday. I am turning twenty-five.
I’m really trying to keep it together, here, but guys. I am turning twenty-five. This is kind of a Deal! I am one-quarter of a century old! I can rent a car!
In five years I will be thirty!
But I’m not going to let myself dwell on that. Besides, I welcome aging with open arms and affection. I am so ready for my age to match my age. Does that make sense? I’m talking to all those folks out there whose friends group is five to ten years older than you. The ones that go to parties and avoid talking about your age for as long as possible. All you kids who get, “But you’re just a baby!” and “Holy crap you’re so young!” whenever we let it slip that, actually, we weren’t alive when that movie/album/cartoon came out, sorry.
It’s one of my pet peeves, I guess.
But anyway, gettin’ older. I really am enjoying it, even the surreal moments.
[Holy crap, twenty-five!]