thirty-four

Just a short note. Today's my birthday, and I don't know exactly what to feel. When I was younger, I thought a birthday was akin to New Year's Day, where everything starts over again with you, a year older and this magical new coat of paint you get applied every 365 days. I desperately wanted to feel that sense of rejuvenation, that sense of everything is new once more. I suppose if I believed it enough I'd feel it.

However, I know (in that creeping adult sense of rationality) that it's just another day. I'm staying home from work, taking it easy. My lovely wife is making a cake. Going to get a haircut at long last. And, as usual, write another thousand words. To me, it's just like any other day, but with cake.

There is nothing special I want to do today, and I don't know if that's good or bad. I'm lucky enough to be not enough of a materialist to think I need gifts or a lot of attention on this one. My surprise party for my 30th, bookended with having my 31st in Paris, was probably as good as it's going to get, and I'm in the mood where I need to be thankful more often. I'm lucky. I have everything I really need in this life. I have a great wife, a nice cozy home, good friends (a couple of whom made a donation in my name to the ACLU), time to write, Massive Attack tickets, and a pair of cats who (as of this writing) haven't pooed in any of my shoes. I'm a king among men. And I'm getting cake.

Finally, a thank you for everyone who drops by to this little blog. I'm grateful you take a little time out of your day to read me.