It was my birthday last week. I've decided it's good to have a birthday at the end of the week because festivities carry through the weekend. If your birthday falls on, say, a Tuesday it kind of sucks. But if you're fortunate enough to have it on a Thursday or Friday it's really like celebrating a birth weekend which is how it should be.
Also, why do I get the presents and recognition? Shouldn't my mom be getting all the praise? I didn't really do a whole lot aside from scream a lot and pee on a nurse which hardly warrants the baking of a cake and giving of gifts. Then again, I'm not complaining because I got some cool gifts. Said gifts include a couple movies, a gift card, some accessories for our camcorder and (perhaps my favorite gift) a Happy Hat. I would explain what a Happy Hat is, but I think you have to experience something like that first hand.
I've been reflecting on my age. People are surprised I'm as old as I am. I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not. I'm not quite old enough to want to look young, but at the same time I don't want to look like I'm 40. Regardless, I'm now a year further away from twenty and subsequently a year closer to thirty. This is strange for me. I have to admit I have a bias against my thirties. I see it as ten years between being young and being old. It's a decade of limbo. An era of lost identity.
Despite my cynicism, I'm sure it won't be like that. We'll have kids by then which means soccer practices, recitals and school performances. Help with homework, carpooling and Cub Scouts. A time of cleaning up many messes and changing of many diapers. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it will be a happy, but very tiring ten years.