For March 1st: So about that 25 thing…

All I know is that I don't know nothing. And that's fine. Reassurance
Originally uploaded by yaznotjaz. [Click to read in the original sizes]

Actually, I don’t really have much to say about the 25 thing, except:

1. The poetry in the photos above really resonates right about now. [Click the photos to read.]

2. I don’t feel 25. Actually, I never felt 23 or 24 either, or anything older than 20, ever. In fact, when I met up with Elysium for dinner in the Mission a couple weeks ago – the day after my birthday, no less – one of his first questions was, “How old do you feel?” and I think we decided 12 was a good answer.

3. Which is why this quote by Anais Nin, saved in my email drafts months ago for just this purpose, is so fitting:

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”

4. My brother’s birthday was two days ago as well (and my sister’s nine days before mine and our mother’s four days before that). On the afternoon of my birthday, driving to Berkeley so the three of us could watch a film at the Pacific Film Archive, I demanded of the brother, “What do you want for your birthday, buddy?” because I’m a firm believer in getting people exactly what they want/need, as opposed to random, pointless gifts. And mainly because, umm, I lack creativity when it comes to shopping for others.

“But it’s your birthday!” he protested.

“Vhatever. So what do you want?”

He scribbled something in the backseat for a few minutes, then passed a sheet of paper forward to the passenger seat where I sat. The top half of the sheet contained a list of books he wanted (he’s a man after my own heart, yes, he is); the bottom half contained the following poem for me:

Birthdays are the first days of our life’s travels
Tho’ our sight might unravel
and daggers may jab our arteries
It’ll never be hard to see March, annually.
And if you plan to last long
and pass on wisdom for your next of kin
Make sure you instill in them the intent
to invent ways to keep you amused,
‘Cuz without you, what would they do?

Apparently the brother knows me better than I thought he did. Because of course I keep people around based only on their amusement purposes. Stop being funny, and we just can’t be friends anymore.

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