28.
2002-07-10 2:26 p.m.
My birthday is Friday. I'll be old. Actually, I'm not too worried about it. Paul was, and maybe still is, in a major bummer about turning 25 last week. It's a quarter of a century, waah waah waah. Comparitively, 28 doesn't seem so bad.I'm not entirely sure how that works, but it's true. 25 is a rough birthday, if you're in the mindset to let it be rough. It's the first birthday where you really stop and look at how you're doing so far. 21, hey, it's drinking time. 22-23, not a big deal. 24, maybe a little worried, but it's not really too late yet. Then 25 comes, and WHAM, you have wasted 1/3 of your life expectancy. But 28? Bah! I laugh at 28! It's just 27 plus 1. Been there, bought the t-shirt (on credit, natch. That's what we 20-somethings do.) Bring it on. Overall, I think I'm doing OK. I'm in a stable, loving relationship. I'm making much bigger strides towards getting out of debt than a lot of people. I have a job that is sort of what I always wanted to do. (I have another job that really kind of sucks, but let's not think about that right now.) I have friends, books, and a cat. I'm doing just fine. Happy Birthday to me.
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