Contrary to the popular belief running around my circles, I don't really hate my birthday.
I mean , who hates the day you were born into this insane nightmare. Right ?
I just don't see the reasoning behind celebrating it as if it were a big deal because it really isn't.
There are far better things to be done with my time and more importantly, money.
Since morning, I've been wished by six people. So, six people know it's my birthday, that's not including the family horde. So technically, my point is proven right here. It really isn't a big deal.
I find it very weird to grow up. I don't feel like it. I was just as sane as when I was 28. I tried last night to grow my biceps by an inch.... very hard, but they wouldn't budge. So no physical growth either.
Mentally, I don't think I have developed any nuttier parts of my brain.They're still nuts.
I find the counter to various checkpoints in my life to be moving so fast that I can hardly keep up.
I think it's time to burn down these so called milestones with a rather large mental flamethrower and start actually living.
In other news, I've been told by someone that I'm at, what some people call it, a very sexy age.
Age is a number. Unless you are a mathematician, and a rather large breasted one with long legs and a tight dress to match, I shall humbly disagree.
But, in the off chance that you are the above things, you'll find that I make good calculus references during my conversations over drinks.
Cheers !
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