Birthday.

22 on the 22nd! It’s like a dream come true!

Well, actually, I just feel older, more worried that I am not doing anything with my life, and even more worried that teenaged apathy is spreading to my young adult years. I had a nightmare last night that my wonderfully thick and full hair magically fell out over night, the anxiety is killing me!

All in all things aren’t too bad. Been having lots of fun, writing a lot, listening to good music, blah blah. Checking the facebook all day to see who has written me happy birthday posts, I guess I am a text book narcissist, are most writers vein? I should ask a psychologist.

Extremely tired and ready for the week to be over, too much internship hooplah and journalism deadlines driving me over the edge. I need a drink, or something. My father will be in town tonight and he’ll be treated me and some closer friends of mine to dinner and booze. Do Americans, actually, do people, ever celebrate anything without food and booze? I can’t imagine turning 22 and not having a drink, which probably speaks volumes about my character, good thing I’m writing in on my internet blog where the entire world can see it!

I wish there was a concert I had desire to see tonight. Something loud, yet tuneful, no obscure noise or anything. I actually think Metallica would be an ideal birthday band, just do shots and listen to the amps blare “For whom the Bells Toll” would surely make me feel fulfilled for the year. I wonder if Hetfield or Lars has actually read “For Whom the Bells Toll”, they should, they might actually like it, got lots of nice violence. That Hemingway sure did have one dark conception of humanity.

I love how people always seem to care more about others’ birthdays than the actual person whose birthday it is. So many calls, the entire same thing, “22 on the 22nd!”, or, “Feeling old?” “No I’m not feeling fucking old I’m only 20!”, is generally what I’m thinking, but I generally write it off with a polite thanks. And the social networking sites are ridiculous! People wishing me a happy birthday that I haven’t talked to or thought of in years, and others who I flat out have never talked to! The only thing I’m thinking about is that I’ll be thirty in 8 years, and considering 14 doesn’t seem that long ago, I am truly not looking forward to it. I can almost guarantee that at 30 I’ll still wear Nike Dunks and Black Flag shirts, pathetic really. Hopefully then I’ll be a published writer, either that or I’ll have gotten my big break in the acting business, starring in the upcoming film version of “Blood Meridian” as the Kid. Oh, how I do love fantasies.

I just don’t want to lose my hair.