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Shit, it took me a minute to figure out what that little ballon icon thingie was. So you say it's your birthday!. . . duh duh duh nuh nuh nuh nuh! What can I say except to quote another song: It's ge-tting be-tter all the ti-i-ime. I feel like I've had four lifetimes of adventures, and the end seems . . . well . . . I dunno. Near? Far? In sh'Allah. I can imagine myself living long enough to be an old grandpa type with a beard and a fishin' pole. I might like that. I can also imagine myself getting run over by a car when I'm jay walking tommorrow. In the meantime I think 29 will kick ass. I thought that 18 would kick ass and, SCORE, it did. The difference is that, back then, my identity fit me like an oversized shoe, and now I feel like I'm growing into it. Unfortunately I still look like I'm 18 (and act like it sometimes), but I haven't lost any limbs, made any accidental babies, caught any diseases, or become addicted to anything (except maybe playing with myself ) I have found my voice and creativity, been in love twice (the deep, life-altering type), known the beauty of countless moments, known serious depression (a healthy contrast, I think), known some extraordinary people, affected a few people profoundly, given many orgasms and even more hugs, felt pain that made me beg and scream for painkillers, learned how to LEARN, started to become the kind of teacher I always wanted to have, wrestled with the mystery of existence, heard music that shook me to my core, and loved, loved, loved. Now I'm in a warm room listening to the pouring rain outside, taking stock of the shocking beauty of the only experience I'll ever know. I couldn't ask for anything more.

I'd love to hear your thoughts: good, bad, happy sad. How old are you, and what does it mean?

Love to all.