For our entire lives, birthdays have been dedicated to our own happiness and fulfillment. We’re being celebrated for an act we had no part in and are rewarded for simply falling out of a vagina.

It appears that no matter how old we get, and what road of life we’ve decided to travel, a lot of people can’t shake off the shitty personalities they exhibited in high school. The only difference between then and now: getting into fisticuffs results in getting fired rather than a few days suspension. Oh, and lawsuits.

Being around people is exhausting. Not from the traditional introverted POV of “straining to think of ways to be friendly” but more of “I’m trying really hard to not tell you to ‘fuck off’ as that’s not appropriate for work/school/church.”

Here in the Washington DC area we had a fairly harsh winter: bone-chilling temperatures, harsh winds, and a couple feet of snow. Folks started to get cabin fever and began wishing for warmer weather to return. They wanted to lounge by some body of water, followed by a cookout with family and friends and ending

[continue reading…]

Having reached a stage in my life where all my friends, acquaintances and well-wishers are all on the verge of, if not already, starting their families, and by proxy their adult lives, there’s a lot of pressure to live up to the expectations of, well, everybody. Sure, some people are all about the nuclear family unit with the 2.5 kids, golden retriever, goldfish, and a decaying elderly relative confined to a rickety rocking chair in the den, and I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought about the very same (sans the goldfish), but is it worth it?