Happy birthday to me!


Today was literally the first day in 2 weeks I got to sleep in past 7:30AM and of course my brother Tim calls and wakes me up at 7.  If I wasn’t so excited to see the punk this afternoon, I would have disowned him right then and there.  I got to the funeral home last night after 6 lumpy and beer filled days in Wisconsin.  I learned many important things in Wisconsin, such as the Bottoms Up bar is not in fact a strip club, one cannot survive on cheese curds and meat sticks alone and Wisconsin doesn’t suck nearly as much as my Minnesota upbringing led me to believe.  

Upon arriving at my grandpa’s yesterday evening, I was handed a glass of wine, acquired a baby to coo at (see below– her mouth is stuffed full of grapes) and sat down to watch the chaos unfold.  Because when there are that many people in the same room, chaos is always to be had.  I’ve decided a lot of things while reflecting on the past year of my life, but the most important one so far– always come home for your birthday.  I have gotten the best presents and even get my very own party.  (Also learned, don’t expect birthday breakfast in bed when your mother has been up and unable to sleep since 4AM.  Make your own damn BLT.)

I’m attempting to assess the 23rd year of my life.  The common thread last July and for much of the past year has been that I felt like I was treading water– not sure if I should stay in DC, frustrated with my job and attempts to find a new one, lonely for someone to spoon me at night, filled with anxiety about where my life was heading, my friends kept moving out of DC.  Not knowing where I would be in the next month (different city maybe, new job) made it hard to make plans or envision what my life would be like in a month or six months or a year.  Now I’m able to do that.  Deciding to stay at my current company allowed me to do that.

Saying I’ve found myself in the last year is the most cliché and ridiculous thing I can think of– especially since I’m convinced I have to re-find myself year after year.  But ultimately age 23 taught me that my own two feet were good enough, because while I’ve always been able to stand on them– I just didn’t always like what shoes I was wearing.  I’ve decided to quit treading water and swim to mother fucking something.  What it is I’m swimming to I do not yet know, but at least I’m no longer waiting to see what my options are.  Full steam ahead.  I’m 24 now, after all.

And on a note much more important than my birthday–  congratulations are in order.  My cousin John is getting hitched tomorrow afternoon and we intend to get down and party in their honor.  Christi, welcome to the family.  We’re happy you’re here.  And brace yourself.


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