As my previous post announced, the 12th was my birthday! That makes me 32, according to when I was actually born in ’88. That part I am not disputing, as it would be very silly if I did!
My question lies with the fact that they pulled life support back in 2013 on my birthday (mildly poetic) and I was supposed to die that day. I think of that often, and now get reminded every year because my oldest friend’s fiance gave birth on that day to twins.
They are both quite lovely, by the way.
My question is simple: am I 32 or 7?
My good friend Chrissy reminded me that it would not be fair if I became younger than her. I really do have to question why anyone would actually want to be younger than they are? I take great pride in the fact that I am the age I am. My wife is two years older than me, and the changes in pop culture that we experienced are amazing.
I am now going to tangent, as I often do. Is it not strange and awesome that humans are the only species that I know of (leave examples of me being wrong in comments) that keep track of age? We have birthdays, anniversaries, laws and regulations around what you can or cannot do, and competition to see who is the oldest in some circles.
Maybe I’m just thinking too much about it. Maybe I’m onto something interesting. Maybe you just caught me writing another blog to delay writing my next book because I am actually intimidated to screw something up so to avoid doing that, I am just waffling until it mysteriously finishes itself.