It’s my 33rd birthday today.
I’m not sure when that happened.
I realize I’ve said something similar every year since thirty, but damn. I’m closer to forty than to twenty, and that’s some kind of shit. In my mind, I’m still a baby child that’s recently post-grad, though my aching hands and killer hangovers say otherwise. Nevertheless, I still truly believe that the very best is right in front of me, despite being, most likely, over a third of the way through my life (*gag*). My mom tells me that I’m a Sue Heck in that regard, that even when the shit hits the fan, I’m painfully optimistic. Which is generally true, though I have no idea how I’m able to reconcile my blinding optimism with unfailing cynicism and blanket disdain for humans.
I had a hard time coming up with a birthday list this year. Not because there aren’t things I like, but because I’m at a point in my life where I really enjoy getting those things myself. Does that make any sense? I’d still take diamonds and Range Rovers and shoes when offered, but nothing really seemed like a necessity from a gifting standpoint, and I didn’t want to ask for things I might not need.
I did, however, decide on a few things I’d do for myself this year.
Botox. ‘sup. I have, in my forehead, what I lovingly refer to as my DHS line. It was forged from years of looking across my desk at my clients with a WTFFFFFF face. Your momma was right when she said that if you make a face too much it sticks. Mine did. So I’m fixing it next month. Don’t worry, I’ll probably nervous Snap it because needles and poison and stuff.
Cleaning out social media. Too many people I follow simply because I’ve followed them forever. You don’t have to litter your life with things that are from the past. Just because you played one intramural softball game with a girl seven years ago doesn’t mean you need to feel bad for unfollowing her on Insta.
Be great at where I am now. Just because I haven’t won a Pulitzer for Fiction and been named General Counsel of the Fortune One doesn’t mean that I’m not useful where I am. My pledge sister Taylor posted this on Instagram yesterday and it really spoke to me:
Foot, meet ass. No matter what you do, what profession you’re in, it’s a group effort. Even the most solo of sole proprietors still rely on other people, and those people, though they don’t own the business, are as important to the running of the business as anyone else. I’m guilty of always looking ahead, seeing where my next move is (you’ll note “perpetual inability to be satisfied” in my bio to the right), and that often makes me feel underutilized in the position I’m in. This was a fantastic reminder that each player brings something to the table.
Permission to say yes to the new and no to the bullshit. I’ll lay myself out pretty thin for things and people that don’t deserve it, and that shit stops here. At the same time, I say no to things I should experience. I watched the stranded in the woods episode of Always Sunny last night, the one in which Dennis and Charlie say yes to everything that’s thrown at them. They ended up drinking with Ryan Howard and flying home on a private jet, so I mean, basically nothing can go wrong.
That’s it. I’m getting brunch for my birthday lunch and grilling for dinner. Maybe some bowling, maybe watching some Lord of the Rings. Or maybe catching a flight to Atlantic City to ball with Chase Utley.
Happy weekend, babies.