I have a confession to make – I’m getting old. This Friday (June 29th) I will be turning 25 years old. That’s a quarter of a century. Dear God, where has the time gone? It seems like yesterday I turned 18 and the world was my oyster.

Now I feel like a withered old hermit whom with each passing birthday reluctantly inches closer and closer to his impending fate, doomed to a daunting life of self inflicted mediocrity and caught in a perpetual existential crisis.

Yes, I’ve been spending the last several days marinating in the bitter sauce of self pity. I already feel older. Just a couple of years ago I could work all day and party all night all week long, for extended periods of time.

Now my body can only handle partying with my friends on Saturday nights, and my entire Sunday is spent in bed recovering. It’s not fun. But I’ve consciously made the decision to make my transition into my golden years a happy one.

I typically don’t celebrate my birthdays simply because I hate being reminded that I’m aging, but this time around I’m getting together with 15 – 20 close friends and family and we’re going to party ourselves into a coma.

I suppose if there’s one piece of conventional wisdom that I’ve acquired in 25 years on this spinning rock, it’s that time is gonna have its way with you whether you  laugh or cry, so I suppose you might as well laugh and have a good time.