Another Year in This Mortal Coil, etc.

I suppose I should be writing something meaningful since I turned twenty-seven yesterday but I'm seriously drawing a blank and I'm typing this faster than my brain can keep up and will probably regret hitting "submit". But anyway, it was boring mostly because I was sick (and still am today) and had to work. The only redeeming aspect of it was that I got a couple new shirts and had some pizza at Insight. It's no fun coughing up hard, sticky, green phlegm on the day you're supposed to celebrate your birth though.

Not too long ago, Fr. Ben told me to take care of my gut before I hit thirty. Thirty? It seems so far away but it's actually closer than I'd like to think. It was only a shade a of decade ago when I dreaded reaching the big two-oh. And now this? How positively surreal - and terrifying.
What am I supposed to have accomplished by then? What would I have to show for come my high school reunion (not that I'd go, but still)? At least I'm not a bum, right? RIGHT? I'm sure the assholes I went to school with are miserable and destitute. Yeah, that's it. Given that I don't check my Friendster any time soon, I can keep telling myself that.

I remember reading a Garfield strip long ago. It was the morning of his birthday and he got out of bed contemplating that he's a year older while looking at his eyebags in the mirror. If he only knew he should be so lucky to be only worrying about that stuff. But "oh well" right? Life goes on.

But why go on with this downward spiral? There are plenty of things I have to be thankful for. I have almost given up on all that is spiritual but after some thought, there are plenty of times when my life could have gone to ruin but hasn't. There has to be some divine entity making sure that I don't screw up too badly I suppose. I should be celebrating another year I've been given as an opportunity to be a better person. Another year I've spent with family and friends who care about me. Another year to make a diamond out of myself through the pressure that's fallen upon my existence as the proverbial coal.

On another note, the guy that invented blogging must have been a fan of Doogie Howser. He must have thought, "man, everyone should be able to write down their oh-so-profound epiphanies at the end of the day for everyone to see".