All people when it comes to their birthday can be broken up
into one of three categories.
1. “IT’S MY FUCKING
These people turn their birthdays into great events, they
have no problem throwing a part for themselves, or taking a trip somewhere
special without a concern about anyone else, it’s their day and they don’t give
a fuck what you think or whether or not you approve. If they throw a party they tend to throw
awesome parties, and end having so much youthful exuberance about this day that
you either choke them out, or get sucked into the wake of their frolicking.
2. “It’s my birthday…”
Indifference is at the center of these people’s attitudes
towards the day of their birth, you acknowledge it, or not, either way they won’t
change their opinion about you. Maybe
mom and dad didn’t make a big deal, or they were bitten by a dog on the ass on
My personal feeling about this type is that the indifference
isn’t real, and deep down inside they just want someone to outwardly show them
3. “FUCK! It’s my
FUCKING birthday, I haven’t done anything with my life worthwhile, and if you
try to give me a fucking birthday cake which I don’t deserve I swear I will use
the fucking candles to give you a prostate massage.”
There is a small percentage of the world that falls into
this category, and it takes a special kind of asshole to be one. I should know, I am the founder of this
division of the Branch Davidians.
The last five birthdays I’ve had, at some point during the
day I’ve found myself angry to the point I’ve almost gotten into fights, and then
at some point cried like a little fucking girl scout who got her cookies jacked
a methed out Cookie Monster.
For much of my life I’ve felt like a thoroughbred stuck
plowing the fields. With each passing
year my racing ability diminishing, the bitterness growing, the world getting smaller,
the inner heat to run dissolving along with my soul.
I can’t tell you where this comes from, and whether I have
some delusional view of what my life is supposed to be, but there is something
deep inside of me which has told me that I am supposed to do something with my
life that will impact a great many people.
Every year that passes without any type of validation of this feeling is
like getting your balls crushed by an asphalt paver.
It’s why I’m such a miserable fuck on my birthday. I wake up disappointed, and discontented that
I am not where I am supposed to be, am I just narcissistic to even think that I
am some special snow flake that has a special place somewhere?
Today is no different, I’m bummed, my balls are as flat as
dryer sheets, yet I’m going to try and do something different.
Am I trying too hard to make create my place, or make a
place rather than letting myself find a place, I maybe suffering from “want it
too bad syndrome” I’m chasing something so hard, that ultimately I’m pushing it
further away from me. I don’t know what
it is that I want but I do know my talents and abilities are mired in mediocrity,
and I haven’t sustained excellence in any one particular area for many
Just know that today on this day the day of my birth that I’m
planning to try and approach it differently from birthdays past, even with
crushed balls I am going to try keep a positive outlook on the day, and figure
out a better way to spend the day than dwelling on all the things I still haven’t