Well, my birthday’s coming up — the big two one. As we all know, the 21st birthday of any kid growing up in America is supposed to be quite the event in someone’s life — it’s a milestone that officially qualifies you into finally transitioning into an adult. With this achievement, there would be no more restrictions on life, and I’d now be legally capable of doing virtually anything. But to me, this whole twenty first birthday is just like  any other ordinary birthday with the exception of a little bit more excessive drinking involved, but other than that, that’s about it.

I’ve never been that much of a birthday guy. Birthday’s don’t mean as much to me as they do to other people. I’ve stated countless times of what I’ve wanted for my birthday, and it’s this — good company and good times. I never wanted anyone to stress over items and things to get for me. All I really want is for the people I love to enjoy this special time with me. I don’t know whether this is so much of a rant or maybe a confession, maybe a little bit of both.