This has been a miserable month. I’m glad it’s over.

Today is my birthday. I am 35 years old.

Damn. I am old.

35 isn’t so bad, though. 30 was worse. 30 was traumatic. When I turned 30 I felt like I was going to cry. I spent the entire year before 30 in mourning. But every year after 30 I’m just glad to be alive.

So anyway, I’m 35 now. I keep wondering when I’m going to “grow up” or “act my age”. I mean, I still watch cartoons. I still play with Legos. I still get excited when I come near the toy section in any given store. And I’m as irresponsible as I ever was. Maybe it will never happen for me.

Who knows? Ah, fuck it. Like I said, I’m just glad to still be alive.