310 seconds. Give or take a few.

Last year, on my 32nd birthday, I decided to start recording a video. More specifically, I’d heard about an app through my cousin, called 1 Second Everyday. The plan was to end it on my 33rd birthday and try and get as much cool stuff in it as possible.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

But then…roadblock. This past week, I had finally had enough of my storage notifications popping up on my phone. I couldn’t download any new apps, podcasts, was constantly having to delete photos, just to make room for this thing.

Yes, I realize I could just have not gotten the iPhone with the least amount of storage ever, but it was the cheapest!

So my self-imposed challenge to take at least one second worth of video daily for the past year came to an end about 55 days early.

I’m still pretty proud of the effort though. That’s a lot of videos.

So here it is, for your enjoyment. And I realize it seems like I watch a lot of TV. It’s because I do.

(It’s also because that’s where I was on some of the days that I realized I hadn’t taken the daily video yet, most likely. And my mild OCD would not let me skip too many days in a row.)

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Four score and seven years ago…

slice of seventh birthday cake

Fun fact: I don’t even like cake.

…this little blog came about. Or something like that. Doesn’t four score mean 40 years? ‘Cause that’s not technically right. But it sounded good…

Anyway. Seven years ago – in 2009 – I started a blog. It was my third or fourth attempt at one – I had a blogspot in college, a blog on myspace and one for work. None stuck.

One would argue this didn’t either, completely, as it has been almost 7 months since I wrote a post.

Sensing a theme here? 7 is my lucky number, though. Born at 7:07, weighed 7 lbs. 7 oz., dad’s the oldest of 7 kids, I was the 7th granddaughter on my mom’s side, if you add up my birthdate (w/out the year) it equals 7…. you get the picture.

So maybe 7 will be a lucky year in terms of blogging. Probably the year I get a book deal, right? Isn’t that how this blogging thing works?

I will say I’ve missed writing. A lot. So I promised myself to get back to it. And now’s a good a time as any, right?

I do have a couple favorite posts from the year to share, as per usual, and you should take a look at the very first birthday of the blog, awww.

Oh and like a ton of posts lined up and scheduled for the foreseeable future. Because I’m prepared like that.

See? 7 IS lucky.

Now for the stuff I actually liked that I wrote last year…

180: https://on-account-of.com/2015/08/25/one-hundred-and-eighty/

More tinder bullshit: https://on-account-of.com/2015/07/08/the-tinder-chronicles-pt-2/

The day it all changed: https://on-account-of.com/2015/06/03/on-hold/

31: The Year of Happiness (or something like that)

If you’ve read this blog…ever…you know that me and happiness go back and forth. I continuously try for it and have gotten so much closer in the past few years in so many ways. So, for a while, people kept telling me “You need to read this book, the Happiness Project.” Never one to shy away from a good book suggestion, I finally gave it a try about a month ago.

I knew the premise – a woman took a year and month by month, she tried to do different things (and in some cases cut out different things) to try and make herself happier.

As a writer, I didn’t really like the book, because of her writing style. She’s a former lawyer, and it read at times like a lawsuit. Small tangent: Yes, I know what those read like because I used to have to read them at times as a part of my job at a community newspaper. JARGON CITY.

And then there was the month where she mentioned in passing that she was trying to curb her habit of eating a spoonful of brown sugar out of the jar whenever she passed it in the kitchen. WTF.

Anyways. Criticisms of the writing aside, I loved the idea. Each month, she was taking a different aspect of her life and focusing on it and how she could be happier in it. One month it was family, so she focused on creating good memories with her kids and new traditions and taking time to slow down and enjoy her time with them. Another month was work, and she made the promise to herself of a certain amount of writing a day. She also planned to write a book in a month – so she did.

The basic principles were there. I wanted to do it. I didn’t wanna copy it completely, but there was so much I could learn and apply on my own. And by doing it on my blog, I would have the opportunity to hopefully communicate with others who may be doing the same or who could give ideas and feedback.

Plus there’s the fact that I need this right now. Maybe more than before. I recently made the heart-wrenching decision to find a new home for my sweet puppy, because it’s what is best for him, though it won’t make saying goodbye any easier. I also recently made the decision to talk to my doctor about my medicine and making a change. My therapist – who I will somehow name a child after one day – and I have had some discussions and think this may help things even more with my moods and anxieties and depression. (I’m not going down in dosage again, it’s not that. Just FYI.)

So I need a distraction. I need a project. I need something.

As for a start date? What better than a birthday? Today I turn 31. (ACK). So why not make 31 the year of my own Happiness Project?

I don’t have it all mapped out yet, but I have started a bit of a list. (Go ahead, act surprised even though I know you’re not.)

But here’s the premise. Each month I focus on something different. The whole month I work on that and that alone. It may be something I only have to do once. It may be something I continue to do throughout the year as I add in the different months and their goals. I currently have 9 ideas for the project and have known since I finished the book which one I would start with.

The way it will work? At the beginning I’ll announce the focus and why. That month, I’ll do different things in that vein. We will see if it makes me happier, but as I’m writing this entry I’m coming to the realization that it’s not even so much about happiness, it’s about focusing on me, something I really don’t do and when I do I don’t do it well. (Drink every time I say focus in this post and you’re too hammered to read this sentence.)

Throughout the month, though, I’ll keep you updated of the progress and of what I’m doing to accomplish that month’s goals. At the end of the month we’ll see what changes/differences if any, it’s made.

And the first month starts today.

I didn’t wanna jump in TOO crazy-like, because turning 31 is a lot to process on it’s own (I’m OLD), but the first month I knew needed to be about cleaning up.

ME PROJECT, MONTH #1: Cleaning up, decluttering and dehoarding

I’m not messy. And I’m definitely not a hoarder. But when I moved last year? Boxes would come in I hadn’t seen or touched since I moved into my last place. So did I need what was in them? Probably not. Yet several are sitting in my guest bedroom closet, just kind of taunting me. Not that I have, like, other stuff to put in there, really, but I know for a fact in there right now are most of my folders from classes from college. WHY? Don’t tell A&E about me, guys.

Small tangent again: Is that show on anymore? I guess not. They brought Intervention back, though, so maybe there’s hope. Also anytime I watch that show it just makes me wanna throw out EVERYTHING. Also vomit.

I also need to admit I got a slight head-start on this month in a way. I have a ridiculous amount of T-shirts from college (because sorority and also free shit). They’ve been sitting in my dresser/closet/giant Rubbermaid container for the 9 years since I graduated just collecting dust, basically. I wasn’t going to throw them out or donate them because the sorority shirts at least, did mean something. And I spent a lot of cash on ‘em.

Luckily, a good friend’s mom quilts and makes blankets and is a pro. She’d just made my friend a T-shirt quilt out of her old lacrosse shirts and I asked her to do the same for my shirts and she luckily, thankfully, agreed. The Rubbermaid container full of shirts is no longer taking up space in my front hall closet and I’ll have an awesome new blanket soon that means something special.

I have a couple of other things in mind to do, but I’ll save those for later posts and update you on my progress as I go.

Have some ideas for my project? Are you doing your own? What’d you think of the Happiness Project book? Do you eat a spoonful of brown sugar every time you pass it in your kitchen?

Oh. And Happy Birthday to Me, I suppose.

Straight (paint)ballin’

When I started thinking about what I wanted to do for my 30th birthday this month, I had so many different ideas. I tossed around doing something for others – doing 30 things for others or something nice for 30 people or maybe just a chill dinner with family.

It never once crossed my mind to use this big-deal birthday to cross something off my list.

That’s where the BFF comes in – it crossed her mind, so she and my sister and my cousins made it happen.

The list item of choice? Paintball.

Now when it was mentioned at the paintball place that this was a bucket list item, the toddler who worked there (I picked that saying up from my traffic school teacher this past weekend. My name’s Laura and I drive fast.) acted like having that on a bucket list was stupid. And to that I say “Worry ’bout yoself, Paintball Boy.”

Lemme back up.

So I get all ready on my birthday thinking I’m gonna go get a bit of a pre-dinner buzz from some mini-margaritas at Jennifer’s house.

Then I get blindfolded and after many death threats from Jennifer, to my surprise I end up at the paintball place – this is what we’re crossing off my list and it’s gonna be awesome!!

Once I’m changed out of my dress and into my paintballin’ clothes, the nerves start to hit a little.

There are SERIOUS paintballers there. As in – significant amounts of camouflage and oh look over there, there’s a whole TEAM of guys who have had shirts made and have their shooter code names on the back. COOL.

Meanwhile, the only ones in our group who have played before are Sami and a couple of the boys. And they tell us newbies that, SPOILER ALERT: Paintballs hurt like a motherfucker.

SWEET. Happy birthday, I still might die today.

So anyway, after signing a waiver that probably says “If you die out there it’s not our fault, you just suck at paintball” and me getting a free shirt – because birthday – it’s time to suit up.

This is where I should have known it was gonna be..interesting. You don’t get a helmet – just a mask that covers your forehead, eyes, nose and mouth and a vest that probably is helpful for most people but I have some serious boobage and, well, it was kind of a joke.

Oh and then you go load your gun with marbles, basically. For newbies to paintball, it’s when you see how hard those damn things are, and that’s before they’re being shot at you from a gun that puts a shit-ton of air behind it.

Then a couple of us got a little bit scared. And that was before we even walked over to the scary-looking zombie town kind of place where we’d be “playing.”

I put that word in quotations on account of when we got over there the people that play every other day and think they’re hot stuff were like, “OH, FRESH MEAT.” And I almost peed.

Tavon, our “supervisor” or whatever they’re called gave us a quick rundown of what we’d be doing and what we weren’t allowed to do (take our masks off, basically, everything else was a free-for-all). And then we were set free to attack at each other.

He said “go” and all we could hear was “pop pop pop pop pop pop pop.” And I almost peed again.

It took approximately 20 seconds for me to get shot. First one went right into the side boob. AND OH MY GOD PAINTBALLS HURT. ESPECIALLY IN THE BOOB.

So – once you get over the initial pain/shock of being hit the first time, then you’re ready. The adrenaline’s going, you’re ready to play again and you know that that stupid little hut thing is not good shelter. Oh, and the paintball “regulars” are crazy AF.

We ended up having to pick teams at one point and in addition to the eight in our group, we needed two more. So we ended up with two more toddlers (Trevor and Jase) on our team to keep things even. We had no idea of their shooting ability (or lack of it), but they were standing closest to us, so it made sense.

Other notable moments from the rest of the three or so hours we were there?
– I had two of the professionals cornered at one point and they were pissed that they couldn’t get out or shoot me, so, GO ME.
– Two seconds after I moved out of the position of having them cornered I got shot in the ear.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT GETTING SHOT IN THE EAR WITH A PAINTBALL.

Rang my bell pretty good. Couldn’t hear for a second. Also thought I was bleeding. And that it took a piece of my ear off. I don’t overreact at all.

Keep in mind that when you get hit, the paint ball explodes. But there are pieces left behind sometimes.

This is NOT what’s going through my head after getting shot in the ear. Instead I am thinking part of it’s missing, a la Evander Holyfield when Tyson bit it off, because when I reach back to feel it, I feel ragged edges of something so obviously it’s my ear. Oh and that wetness? Definitely can’t be paint, must be blood.

WRONG ON ALL ACCOUNTS.

Did win me some cool points with some of the pros. And it made for a good conversation piece the rest of the night, especially when I couldn’t get it all out/off before changing into my dress for dinner.

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How hot is that?? (And gosh dang if my eye makeup doesn’t still look great…)

Others got it worse – Jenn, Hope and Ethan, from what I remember, all had paint on their faces – especially around the chin and mouth, where it had hit their mask.

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And I didn’t have nearly the amount or intensity of bruises as some of the rest of them did. Also, Hope almost had to smack a girl wearing an Elmo shirt and Sami shot a guy in the nipple and it ripped a hole in his shirt because she’s a badass.

Let’s see, what else…

OH. We basically adopted Trevor and Jase for the rest of the time there except for a few minutes when we were mad at Trevor for siding against us in one of the games and I called him Judas. Then they told us we didn’t seem as old as we were and we were fun and like their friends so we let them back in.

And Jennifer may or may not have been on her way to starting a small army of children that she was captain of but at that point we were all out of bullets and had to go.

Like I said before, it was the most fun birthday of my adult life and I cannot wait to go again. Especially now that all the green paint is pretty much gone from my ear.

Best one yet? I’m thinking yes.

Besides the first one, obviously, but I don’t remember that one.

Oh, what am I talking about? Birthdays.

‘Member how I turned 30?

Well. It was kind of a big deal.

So.. I think I’ve been surprised maybe twice in my life. And usually it’s just been a matter of someone showing up somewhere that I didn’t expect to see them. I’m more of a startled person – like don’t jump out at me or you’ll get hit.

I bet I am making no kind of sense, am I?

OK. So last weekend was my 30th birthday. I had made a few plans and thought everyone was going along with it, but boy was I wrong.

A few weeks before the day, I told a few people I wanted to go out to dinner – we’d dress up fancy and just go somewhere and have a small, chill thing. I pitched it in the group text with the Game Night Bitchezzz and they were down, and suggested a pre-party before, because that’s what we do.

My sister, Rachel, convinced me to let Dad make reservations for the dinner so I’m not planning my own birthday stuff and that’s that.

Oh, and I went and bought a dress. It wasn’t only for my birthday, but the birthday seemed a good enough excuse as any.

And I didn’t think anything else about any of it.

Birthday Day came and started awesomely. Lots of birthday love from the second I woke up from friends and family, and of course, all over Facebook because that’s how it counts.

My friend, Stephanie, and I had plans to go get pedicures, so we did that and followed it up with lunch at Havana Rumba, pretty much the best restaurant ever.

Then it was time to go home and get ready.

You guys, I spent soooo much time getting ready. If I wear eye makeup, it must be important, and I worked on that shit for a while. Then put on my dress and headed over to Jenn’s where she said she’d “do my hair before dinner.”

And that, my friends, is when I lost any control I had on the day.

You see, I got to Jennifer’s and before I could get in the door, I was blindfolded, turned around, and told there had been other plans made for the day.

Jenn and Matt kidnapped me, basically, and put me in their car, and were playing some version of good cop, bad cop – meaning Matt was being nice to me and Jennifer was verbally abusing me. Anyone who doesn’t know her would think that’s bad, but as her best friend and after 14 years, I know it’s just the way she shows she loves you.

So here I am, my eye makeup now ruined (I’m thinking) and my hair not gonna get done and I hope wherever they’re taking me isn’t expecting me to look as amazing as I thought I was going to.

Oprah taught me never to be taken to a second location, but that didn’t work in this case and we discussed my impending death, because that had to be what was happening, they were taking me somewhere to kill me.

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I had even brought tiny margaritas for the pre-party. Who would drink them when my best friends murdered me?

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I was allowed to ask questions, but it got me pretty much nowhere.. because I had NO clue where we were going, who would be there, or what I was in for, as you can see.

Please note the “pop pop pop pop pop” sound as soon as the door’s opened. That doesn’t do much to soothe the worries of someone who thinks they are being taken to their death.

But SURPRISE!!!! No dying!!! It was paintball!

When I opened my eyes I saw five of my very favorite people dressed the complete opposite of me, ready to help me cross something off my list.

I found out later, that my best friend, because she’s awesome (despite the verbal abuse from earlier in the day) had decided a couple months ago to do something big for my birthday. She got on this blog and looked at my list for something she could help me cross off. And since my friends wanted to play paintball too, that got chosen!

First of all – the paintball experience in itself is getting its own post. Second of all – I wouldn’t in a million years have thought that’s where they were taking me. So much fun. And I was covered in paint when it was time to change back into my dress to go to dinner.

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Fancy.

So yes, it was at this point I thought we were going to a nice steak restaurant for dinner that I’d never been to before. You know, the one with the small group.

NOPE.

Blindfolded again. At this point I’m figuring we’re ending up at a party somewhere – someone’s house or something. No clue though, really. But I know it’s not the steak place.

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Again I’m completely caught off guard because my family and friends have organized a second surprise for the day. Lining the patio outside of our favorite Mexican restaurant up the street were about 30 people I love a lot. I couldn’t believe it.

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And the rest? Is history. I’ll let the pictures explain, especially since it gets a little bit fuzzy after about 30 minutes of being at the restaurant…

I’ve said it many times before but it bears repeating. I am blessed with some amazingly awesome people in my life. I am so grateful for every single one of them, and they made my (potentially scary) 30th birthday the best I’ve ever had. Love you all!

Highlights? Dad and I slow-dancing at a bar to Liz karaoke-ing to Usher’s “Let It Burn.”

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Oh and my grandma had some tequila.

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Dirty 30

That headline alone should get some clicks, don’t ya think?

It’s not what you think. Or maybe it is. I don’t know how your brain works.

Today I turn 30.

Holy shit.

I thought that was old, once upon a time. And I still feel like it’s old every once in a while. But I am also at the point where my friends are hitting that age first (I’m the baby of one group of friends). And I haven’t seen any major “OMG” moments happening because the 3 is the first number now.

I don’t know what I expected…but when you’re younger, 30 always seems so far, so significant. Like, “by the time I’m 30 I’ll have this and do this and blah blah blah” and that’s not how it is at all when you get there.

Within the past few years or so I have, I’ll admit, had the momentary freak-outs of “Is this where I’m supposed to be in my life, at this age?” And, well, that’s kind of dumb.

Do you know who decides who you should be and when you should be it? YOU.

What a concept, right? Took me a bit to figure that out, but I got there. Eventually.

And, believe it or not, I think I’m right where I need to be. Recently I’ve been reminded of that, because as I got even closer to that “milestone” of turning 30, things have been getting better and better.

I am closing on a condo in the next month. I might will be getting a puppy. I got a raise at work. The photography thing is picking back up and I have a couple other things in the hopper (HOPPA – friggin’ love that commercial and that accent so much) in the near future that could mean even more big changes. Hopefully. I am where I want to be in my relationships – I am beyond blessed with friends and family that I am grateful for every second of every day.

I am happy. I am happier than I’ve been in a long while. And for someone like me who has struggled with the four flat tires of depression for as long as I can remember and who even got pretty low a couple months ago, that’s HUGE.

The happiness thing has made me want to share that feeling with others..but, how should I do it?

I had a grand plan a few weeks ago to do this big thing for my birthday. Remember the girl I told you about we saw in New York? That got 2,900 flowers donated to give out for her 29th birthday and used them to urge others to be kind and pass along her kindness? I wanted to do something similar. And silly me thought with little planning I could make it happen and get it all done in a day.

Change of plans.

This year, in honor of 30 awesome years behind me (some more awesome than others, of course), I am going to do 30 awesome things. That could be anything – from spending an entire day doing acts of kindness to a trip somewhere to taking part in an experience I’ve never had before. It may include checking some stuff off my list.

The possibilities are endless. I want your input – your suggestions, your help, and, if possible, your company on some of these! Thoughts?

There is absolutely no reason not to make 30 (and every year after it) something great. So. Leggoooooo.

I know about pop-u-ler. Lar.

Bonus points if you get the reference in the title.

I’m pretty sure there are random robots in three different countries (Germany, France and India, I think, based on my stats) that search daily for the phrase “moth flew up my nose.”

That’s weird, right? Even weirder that it leads them to me? Well..nah.

In looking back at some of the posts and the stats on them from my last five years writing this blog, the post with the most views has been the one I wrote about the time a moth traveled through my sinus cavity like the bus on Magic School Bus. Only I could feel it. And it was nasty.

(P.s. 8,615 views JUST on the homepage, not counting individual posts. WOOT.)

So that made me wonder. What else were the robots directing you to? Or (hopefully) what are the posts that the most people read? I figured the one about when I got appendicitis and proved everyone wrong about my hypochondria would be up there, but a couple of the others were a surprise.

So, without further ado – and whether the robots are to blame or these are peoples’ all-time faves – here are the top five most-read/clicked-on blog posts these past five years. And one to grow on.

5. The Girl Who Cried Appendecitis

“I spent an hour waiting to see the doctor at the hospital, during which time I watched an entire episode of Regis and Kelly, learned how to do The Dougie and realized that there may never NOT be a time when people don’t scream when they hear/see/smell/think about Justin Beiber. Oh, I also drank a lemonade spiked with dye that would make my insides change color so they could see my organs in the machine. Delicious.”

4. One year closer to 100
I turned 27 and it wasn’t that exciting. Also – I only accomplished like, two of the things I listed that I wanted to do that year. Whoops.

“There’s no specific things you only get to do once you turn 27, none that I know of anyway.”

3. New Year’s Eve Mystery: Cast of Characters

“You guys, I’ve wanted to host or attend a Murder Mystery party for a long time. Like, ever since the Clue-ish episode of Saved By The Bell. And then again when Hef and the girls did one at the Playboy Mansion on an episode of Girls Next Door (I miss that show…the original one, not the second group).”

2. Nothing rhymes with purple

“Know what else is purple? Just about everything associated with the Walk to End Alzheimer’s. It’s the walk my family and some friends and I are taking part in in a few weeks and even though they give out purple shirts there, our team will be wearing our own, complete with little light purple elephants.”

1. One time this moth flew up my nose

“I have no idea why bugs like to fly at or around or in my nose, but I don’t think it’s fair. I don’t understand it and it’s gross. There’s no light coming from my nose attracting them and I don’t think I have a huge nose or nostrils or whatever. Just lucky I guess.”

Oh and the honorable mention goes to the blog post that started it all:
The origination of the story of the Kentucky Bourbon Boys.

“2:30 p.m. Jack tells us how they smell-test the bourbon and mentions how you “put the cork in the bunghole.” That’s the word they use. Our group laughs. Because we are children.”

Words of wisdom

Grandma: “Is this an XL?”
Mom: “You don’t wear an XL”
Grandma: “Anyone can wear an XL, that’s what’s good about it!”

Wise words from the 91-year-old on her birthday when she wanted to make sure her shirt would fit.

Two eight

Tuesday night I didn’t fall asleep until well after 2 a.m. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. I read before bed, I didn’t go anywhere near the computer after work, I watched 10 minutes of the Weather Channel. Nothing helped.

And so I laid there. Staring at the ceiling and then the wall while I tried to think about nothing. Which is damn near impossible. Because I think that’s what you’re supposed to do in yoga, which makes every attempt to get you there, but all I was thinking about last time was “Really? This is yoga? Why haven’t I done this before? We’re basically just power-napping right now!” And then I thought about the nap I was
gonna take that weekend and how it was the first one I’d have taken in the past month because I’ve been busy and here’s why I have been busy and blah blah shut up already.

Tuesday night’s insomnia was nothing new, but the thoughts running through my head were. You see, today I turn 28. No big deal, right? Right, just like every other year of my 20s (after 21 of course). But for some reason, in those 2 hours after I attempted to go to bed, 28 seemed really scary.

If I had to metaphor it for you, it’d be like I was about to bungee jump (which I would never do in real life because that’s how your leg gets torn off and also, heights? Holy shit.). I was standing there, holding on and scared. I didn’t know what it was going to be like, I wasn’t ready for it and what in the hell had even brought me here?

On Tuesday night, that’s how I felt about my impending birthday. You guys, I have never felt like that about a birthday. I thought it’d come at 30, which makes so much more sense, because 30! No more 20s!

And here’s where it gets all therapy-like. Bear with me for a minute. Sidenote: Found a new therapist, that returns phone calls! One less thing to worry about! Now, if we could just stop playing phone tag and set up an appointment already…

You know what I thought about Tuesday night? Plans. Like, the plans when you’re younger and think you can control life to an extent and figure by this age you’ll do this and that age you’ll do that and 16-year-old me thought that by 28 I’d be married with one kid already, if not two. Funny how things work out.

I don’t know what I thought I’d be doing for work at this time, but I know an entertainment magazine of some sort was the priority. Glad that didn’t happen, though, because I’m pretty sure there aren’t any based in Louisville, at least not the kind I want to work for. And I need to stay here. This is where my heart is. Also, Derby.

Every once in a while – and it’s very rare – I feel like it’s Groundhog Day, but only for me. I’m doing the same things I’ve always done the same way I’ve always done them but around me, everyone else is moving on, changing, growing.

It’s silly. I worry about silly things. Because life, right now, for me? Is great. Is it what I thought it would be when I was 16? Nope. Is that a bad thing? HELL no. When I was 16 I also thought that being treated like crap by a guy was OK because hey, it was attention. Things change, people change, and I’m glad I’m where I am today because who said I’d be happy if I’d gotten what I thought I would when I was 16 by now?

It’s dumb to be scared, because it’s just another birthday – just another year that doesn’t really mean anything unless I make it mean something. And I plan to. Good things, remember? And I’ll bungee jump (metaphorically, not in real life). I’ll go into 28 willingly, not holding on to 27 for dear life because I’m used to it and I know it’s
safe and OK and happy and fine.

So after those two hours of anxiety-ridden tossing and turning Tuesday night, reading several articles on Cracked to get my mind off things and listening to a song Baby Einstein introduced me to first thing Wednesday morning, I was fine. I still am fine. And I’ll be fine. Just don’t ask me to bungee jump for real. I like having both legs.

P.s. The song Cheesebob told me about was Fun.’s “Be Calm.” Should become my motto. But it’s addicting and we sing it loud and I love it a lot.

Also, while I am scared of heights, that doesn’t mean I won’t try new things if they’re up high. What do I mean? Well there’s a good chance yours truly is riding in a balloon in the Derby Festival’s balloon race. WHAT? Let the irrational fears of death by balloon crash commence.

Oh, and happy birthday to me. Twenty-eight. Bring it.