Birthday Post

Today I’m twenty five years old.  I figured I might as well write about this instead of figuring out how to fit a boner joke into another article about the union protests. At some point I have to follow the vague theme I assigned to this blog by titling it “Life After Having a Life.” The question people tend to ask on your birthday, because there isn’t a better question to ask, is “how do you feel?” The same, next question please. That next question tends to be “what have you learned” or something to that effect.

I can start by telling you that I haven’t learned much, hopefully not enough to put this over 1,000 words. But if I had to give advice based on my quarter century of life I would have two things to tell people who do not yet have the ability to rent a car.

First, you don’t know shit. Please abandon that illusion immediately. It’s okay though, because I don’t know shit either. I used to think I did. For example: I used to think it was really cool that I had long shaggy hair, wore Phish shirts, and smoked cigarettes. I used to think that was really cool. Now I look back on those days with amused disbelief. Thank you to the one girl who saw fit to have sex with me freshman year, what you did was borderline charity.

I also used to think that I was going to graduate from college in four years. HA. I remember seeing members of my fraternity who were destined for four plus years of college and thinking to myself “I’m not retarded, no way I’m staying a fifth year.” HAHAHA. Why did I think that? Because I didn’t know shit of course!

It’s not as if that wasn’t under my control, it was to an extent. I certainly could’ve refrained from drinking five nights a week freshman year. I didn’t have to sleep in until noon every day. Of course I had no control over a botched attempt to drop out of French II junior year. That wasn’t my fault. Either way though, that 5 hour F really tanked an already mediocre semester. A 5 hour F is to your GPA what a gaggle of giant penised AIDS infested rapists is to an otherwise leisurely prison shower session. That’s what it felt like anyway, and that shit never goes away.

Perhaps the most foolish thought of all though was to assume I would have a job right of college. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, I do feel the need to asterisk this most foolish assumption of all. In May 2009 the economy was nothing short of awful. The job market, to compare it to the Great Depression, was dryer than an elderly farmer’s wife’s vagina during the dust bowl (my apologies if you were looking for an intelligent historical reference, we don’t do that here).

It’s pretty simple, you don’t know shit. You just don’t. You’ve got to trust me, even though I don’t know shit. You may be wondering how I know that I don’t know shit if I don’t actually know shit, it’s because I am in fact aware of the fact that I don’t know shit. This is getting a little Inception-ey.  Regardless, once you accept the fact that you don’t know shit you can move on to the second truth of your twenties.

Don’t expect anything. I don’t mean that in a “nothing is given to you, you have to earn it” kind of way.  That is absolutely false. People are given stuff all the time, I haven’t earned A LOT of what I have. Just don’t expect things. You never know what will happen. I came to this conclusion simply by examining the absurd assumptions I used to hold. I expected to graduate in four years, I expected to have a job right out of college, the list goes on forever.

If you expect things, for the most part you will be disappointed, even if you get them, because you’ll drive yourself crazy trying to live up to your expectations.  By that point the victory might seem kind of hollow. Just go with it. If you have a plan or goal, pursue it, but don’t expect anything. Don’t try and draw a map of territory you’ve yet to explore…thoughts becoming deep…must write something sophomoric…TAINT. But really though, if you go through life expecting something out of everything and everyone, you will be sorely disappointed. The ability to float happily cannot be undervalued when attempting to figure out how enjoy a blissful existence. My fifth year of school turned out to be the best one of all. I didn’t expect to even have that fifth year, and I certainly didn’t have any expectations for it, who would?

There’s a good chance all of this is bullshit though. After all, I don’t know shit, so you probably shouldn’t expect to learn anything from this post. But maybe by understanding that, you’ll have found meaning in this after all. Sorry, I’m getting all The Stranger-ey on you (yeah, I’ll reference Albert Camus, I’m totes super smart and stuff). I do know one thing, I’m going to eat my favorite food today, and get shit-faced this weekend, maybe, I don’t really know.

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