I'm 47
I'm older now, which is new. I'm tempted to say "jesus fucking christ!", but, in all honesty, it is what it is – and increasingly so.
One year near the end of high school, furious that I had to spend my birthday with a buncha hayseeds, racists, and dipshits, I promised myself that, as soon as I could swing it, I'd never do anything responsible on my birthdays again. And, almost entirely, I've maintained that. This time, too.
I love birthdays in theory, but less so in practice. I'm always childlike-excited that my birthday is near, but never really know what to do or how to celebrate when it comes. But the last few have been fun enough, and that's better than no fun enough.
Forty-seven. Zoom.