All of this angsting over turning one year older, and I’m already feeling the sense of complete and utter ridiculousness over hemming about it. So I’m turning another year older, I’m only going to be 26, it’s not like I’m turning 27. I’ll worry about that next year, when (hopefully) I’ll be in another country. Gah, I am starting to turn old, and I’ll tell you exactly why this realization keeps smacking me in the head.

1) I’m beginning to treat younger people with disdain. It’s true. Some of the one who obviously have their head up their ass seem to keep finding me. It would appear that I have become part of the social consciousness. Those young whippersnappers need to seriously catch a clue or two, like I did when I was their age.

2) I have officially noticed how much closer I am to thirty than I was when I was about to turn 25. Four more years and I’ll be a bona fide old person. I’m starting to have a mini-midlife crisis over here.

3) Much as number one is prevalent, I constantly surround myself with young ones to make myself feel less old. Though I do have some older friends, but maybe just one or two. Most of my friends are ages 19-24. As long as I avoid questions like, “So, where were you when Challenger exploded?” I’ll be all right.

Uh, anyway, I actually looking forward to tomorrow. I’m going to go down to the local Japanese restaurant with my friends and family, and have a little get-together. There were no formal invitations sent out, but I did make contact with everyone I want there. Some are coming, some are not, but I don’t care because I’m still going to have fun. Good food and good company, what more can one ask for?