In less than a week I will mark yet another end/beginning of a year in my life: my birthday. Although I have ruled out 'tennis star' and 'POTUS' as possible career choices, it is slightly humbling that 'by my age' Venus Williams has won 5 (!) Wimbledon championships and Barack Obama** had already organized the crap out of Chicago's south side. And by humbling, I mean renders my current state of ample sleep, no work and reheated coffee as pathetic. I try to approach my b-day with ambivalence and a bit of humor, yet I awoke today with a slight feeling of panic regarding the upcoming events.
I have already secured my favorite Local Friend for wine drinking and youth reassurance, but I find myself frustrated at the lack of importance of my life at the moment. I want a platform to tell John McCain to stop 'joking' about killing Iranians or a place to discuss the seeming lack of outrage regarding the spectacular attempts at destruction of Michelle Obama's reputation by the republicans as it compares to the hype surrounding the 'misogyny that was the reason behind HRC's loss'. My reality, however, is that of a woman on the cusp of her late twenties with a big plan of returning a book to a neighbor and going to the post office today.
** I, in no way, am implying that Obama is the presumptive nominee for POTUS. I am a Boston sports fan. I am well aware of the curse that accompanies even the slightest feeling of inevitability.**
*** I hope that one of my Favorite People and Dedicated Readers with whom I had a discussion regarding the liberal and unnecessary usage of 'quotes/unquotes' this week will excuse my exploitation of the literary device in the above passage***
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