[Imported] Yeah, I guess I’ll just buy my own cake

My birthday is tomorrow, and judging by the fact that only one person in the entire world has asked me what I want to do for it, I'm gonna take a wild shot in the dark and guess that I'm gonna have more of a pity party (and you're all totally invited) than a birthday party, but I haven't really mentioned any birthday wishes either, so maybe I brought it upon myself, so what can I say other than I REALLY LIKE LONG SENTENCES.

Seriously, though, I'm not sure what's going on tomorrow - or more likely, this weekend when people are actually available - but you know what I have on my to-do list? Haircut, oil change, post office, bank, and laundry. I'll be 22 tomorrow, and what better way to celebrate being another year closer to 30 than to act like I'm 30? I also plan on having a mid-life crisis at 25.

I've just always been a bit more advanced than most people.

I gotta tell you though, I have high expectations for this year. Twenty two is my lucky number, and except for that one lottery ticket I bought on my 18th birthday, it hasn't let me down yet (knock on wood, because I'm superstitious like that), and I just hope that it's all gonna start turning around for me soon. These last four years or so have honestly been a little bit of hell for me (which I'm sure is completely unrelated to that lottery ticket, though I do appreciate the coincidence there) due to things that I don't really mention much on here, and I just keep hoping that one day things are going to miraculously STOP SUCKING. At least for a little while? Maybe, God? Please? Here, turn this water to wine for 'Yes' or leave it for 'No.'
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Well, You don't have to do it right this second. I'll let You work out your Ineffable Plan first, and You can get back to me.

Okay, okay, okay. I realize that I'm getting a bit oh-woe-is-me again, which I know is probably a common theme here in my blog, and I don't mean to, but did you know I was born on a Wednesday? And Wednesday's child is "full of woe?" SEE, I CAN'T HELP IT. But this writing thing I do here is basically my venting area. Some people count to 10, some people hit pillows, some people join cults, but I just come on here and OVER-REACT IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE WORLD.

But before you all peg me as being emo or depressed or for owning a slew of trench coats, let me convince you otherwise by reminding you of this one little tidbit. For year twenty-two, I AT LEAST HAVE HOPE*. It's like what they say for the Chicago Cubs**. This is my year.

*I mean, the good kind of hope. Not the Barack Obama kind of hope. Ew.

**Hopefully I won't have to wait a century for it to come true, though.