So I am 34 years old, now. And ever since No Doubt’s Return of Saturn album was released, I played “Six Feet Under” at least once on my birthday.

I thought I was going to be unbearably sad today. That I was going to pass today with cynicism and dullness in order to get through it. I was sad the two days before, you know: anxious about the few plans I did make, on top of the usual existential worries and thoughts about death.

But I was okay. I am okay.

I woke to two enthusiastic birthday wishes when I stumbled into the bathroom around 5am (our sleep and work schedules are wack, is all).

I made jokes when I was at work; having a half day may have had something to do with it. My coworkers wished me well the whole time. I got a candy bar and a soda as gifts!

I had dinner and my anxiety was finally quieted when one of my favorite restaurants wasn’t swamped after all! We (polycule we) had plenty of time to eat and exist before going our separate ways, because middle of the week still has mundane life things going on.

I’m happily morbid and my girlfriend and I talked about death. I still would like to be cremated and thrown in a Republican’s face.

I finally thought of a name URL for this blog. I figured it was time to post something. Maybe I can keep this up.

It was a decent day today.

I hope I have at least another 42 years.

Today is my birthday and I get one every year.
And someday, hard to believe 
But I'll be buried six deep underground.