Today I am twenty-four. Which is definitely mid-twenties, which is definitely almost thirty. I am so. grown. up.
But, she doesn't have one baby yet! She's not even married! What an unfortunate burden on her family she has become. I frankly feel sorry for the puir dear. Lord in Heaven, what man would have her now? Any minute her tits are going to fall down and her face is going to dry up...I mean, she is pushing thirty and all. It's not even safe to have babies at her age!
Does any one else have a Medeival village of rabble rousers living in their head? Cause I don't.
Stone her! I saw her put a pox on Goody-
Goddamnit. Shut up, you!
Ok then. You know, I have a feeling that I will always feel like I'm too young or too inexperienced or too unqualified to do whatever it is that I'm doing. I will be forty and have a doctorate and a big house and six kinds of insurance, and I'll still feel like I'm not ready to have a real job or real kids or be responsible for anything of consequence. Like I don't know something that all authentic, certified grown-ups know, and any minute I am going to be found out for the fraud that I am. I bet a lot of people go through their whole lives with the nagging sensation that they don't know what they are doing. I guess I'd better accept that now.
So today there will be Harry Potter and Olive Garden with loved ones, brought to me by Carl. I'm wearing something cute, the sun is shining, my dad called me on the right day, and my tenure as a pizza slave has all but ended. Next week, I will fly out to Seattle, whereupon we will tear it up; wine, cheese, crackers, the whole shebang. Everything is right with the world. Happy Birthday to me.