Birthday

Though I don’t quite know the exact day Luna was born, I know it was some time in late August of 1999. This means a cat I adopted shortly after I graduated from college is now 21 years old.

People are so blind to their own flaws. Through certainly no bastion of saintliness, I try to at least remember to listen. It’s better to be wrong and learn, than remain steadfast in my ignorance. And there is always so much left to learn. May there be so many mistakes yet to come.

First, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who managed to come to the party on the 22nd. Richard and Bettina, you didn’t drink nearly enough, but you provided me with reading material, so all is forgiven. Ryan J, I still can’t believe you only broke two of my ITG records; it’s surreal. I’ll try to enjoy your shot glasses, since they’re the first ones I’ve ever owned (at 30, go figure). Ryan D and Amanda, you should have stayed! I’ll try to get the blue robot in the Rock’em Sock’em Robots game to lose more evenly for your next visit, and thanks for the Lil’ smokies; they’ve been a great lunch for the past couple days. I hope we didn’t drive you too batty Justin, and I’m sure I’ll get tons of use out of Mario Party 8; party games rule! Thanks for coming up, Mom… now everyone knows my weirdness has a genetic component.

At precisely 11:16PM tonight, I’ll have persisted upon this world for a grand-total of three decades. To understand the true significance of this, I believe I should clarify.

I was born on September 18th, 1977 in Washington State, and since that day, life hasn’t taken kindly to my presence. Two months passed, and I went into congestive heart failure; not a heart-attack exactly, but hint enough I wasn’t meant to live. But they saved me, the doctors. I battled almost yearly pneumonia, two hernia surgeries, and a cracked skull, but somehow I prevailed. At the age of six, I was a battle-scarred veteran when most kids explored the wondrous flavors of kindergarten paste.