There is an unequivocal sensation that arises when my birthday comes within eyesight on the calendar. Yes, it is true that I get older and probably loose more of my youthful virtuosity as the leaves fall off my tree of my life. However, it is also true that the leaves falling can still serve as nutritious soil for future trees to grow.
In no way am I referring to some Hindi sense of reincarnation. Rather, I propose that the great impacts I can make on others is sure worth the test that time will provide me. In a way, I feel that it is truly exciting to continue living and learn more about oneself, the world, other worlds, and how we all somehow manage to struggle with today when it is already tomorrow in Australia. Cliches and hard-to-forget puns aside, I think that there is something noble in living a life that is suggestive of being open to suggestions and/or influences of others.
Morose from the depressing contraband that my younger brother smuggles into my happy family mode, I ca only look to other theaters to find victory in my war with the world. Obviously, not a war against anyone in the sense that there is some imminent threat or need of violence, but rather that I preemptively strike at any opportunity to become better.
This can be as a result of hanging out with others who are intellectually stimulating, some new inspection into a piece of art or literature, or even this quasi-career of teaching (oh how it is so fun, engaging, challenging, and truly worth the troubles when you get to see a student get it).
Yes, I feel inspired for the moment. Maybe it is like wine, and with age I have gotten only more desirable to the lips of mother nature. Blessed with countless chances to strive for a difference, I sit here feeling utterly encompassed with the need to plan lessons for the nest month or two. . .
Patience, as in I need to relax. There are more pressing issues for me to figure at the moment. Maybe I have some sort of undiagnosed behavioral issue? Either way, the priorities that probably need to be assessed and taken care of revolve around my completion of certain essays, projects, and a certain birthday celebration.
Some say that house parties are for the lame, and others hint at the lack of impetus towards unsheathing their wallets and dueling with the notorious nightlife of bars and/or clubs. Trouble is, I’m find with both. Hell, I’d love to dedicate next weekend entirely to my celebration of sorts. 24 is a big number, you know. At least bigger than 23.
Is there some surprise brewing in the pot? I get no whiff, so maybe that should be my cue to be prepared for a gleeful exposure to unforeseen activities. Yet again, we are talking about my friends here. I love em to death, but the skill of planning and organization is certainly something of a bereft quality when it comes to my close bros. Homies till the death, but shit they can be difficult at times.
“Are we going out tonight, bro?”
I would love to be surprised, but fuck I can’t be too selfish. Hence, I need to figure out what steps to take. I can call from work next Sat, throw a party that night for all my bitches (jk) and ninjas. However, truthfully my social circle is somewhat of a wandering water hose in the front yard. Sometimes, it is so expanded that I forget some peeps, and other times it is tightly coiled and there is about a centimeter’s worth of space.
Do I even have a social circle now?
Regardless, the house party might be a decent option for the close peeps as we digress into simple drinking games. Now, to go out on the town. That represents a beast that I’m a little bit excited about facing. However, again I wonder how illustrious it can be if only a few of my compatriots partake in it. Some dudes are flakes, others have ladies holding em back, and then there are the few who (bless their soul) are just out for getting pussy for themselves at all times possible. Fuck, whatever happened to me having close girl-friends to help have a good time with?
In all truthfulness, I don’ know what type of partying I should prepare for. It kind of hurts that I can’t seem to make up my mind, because being indecisive is so 4 years ago. I just want to take shots with my boys, sip cocktails and flirt with some girls, and dance my ass off. This can be enacted in a multitude of situations. Maybe I should just stop worrying, because fuck why do I even stress about hyper-managing each aspect of life. In retrospect, some of the funnest times have occurred when least expected.
Just get me a sash and tiara to wear.
