I love people's birthdays. This week was my brother's 24th (so amazing how grown up his getting) and Brianne's 26th is Monday but we celebrated all weekend. I just love doing stuff for other people, telling them how awesome they are and what they mean to me. I really think these days should be a celebration of the self. It's too easy to get bogged into age and what it means and how you thought you'd be at a different place by now that you forget just how cool you are and how great your life is. We've fed into some sort of bullshit that puts limits on happiness. You should have kids by this age or your failure, have a career by this age or you aren't successful, own a house, blah blah. This is my maternal grandmother's whole line of thinking. It irritates me that she can't see my brother and I as successful simply because we're "still in school." Don't even get me started on my life compared to the more successful grandchildren who are married and have kids, one whose husband is on trial for having an inappropriate relationship with his soccer students. But I'm the failure for still continuing my education. That and I'm a lesbian. Poor Me-ma.
Deep breath. Tirade over.
What I'm saying is that we should be so much more accepting of our places in life. Measure our successes our way. I mean, I think that if I make it through the day without getting high, hurting someone purposefully and killing a child who won't stop screaming in the grocery store line, it's been a good day. I'm half kidding.