Sunday I woke up with a patch of apparent cystic acne on the left side of my face. I assume there was something on my hand but I also think maybe this is just Puberty³. I also ran into a door jamb and bung my knee. So everything is coming up Millhouse this birthday. We’ll call this the year of acceptance. I guess this is just what I weigh now. I guess I just have a dermatologist now. I guess I really have to have milk in moderation.
Last year I was slightly more optimistic as one tended to be before they knew what fresh hell 2018 would bring. I have kept up my monthly donations to Planned Parenthood and just going to let it ride because I mean, you see what’s going on. I’ll pick a new service thing to do for 2019 so we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it (unless that meteor I should have voted for decides to show up).
Later this week I’m going to a planner conference in Atlanta so I have to to look forward to. I’m not forcing any plans or aspirations and will refer to great Aunt Liz Gilbert’s advice about off years and not everything needing to be productive than the year before. I’m not even going to say I’m going to complain less cause I fucking love complaining and that’s how I started this post off. 
You’re hilarious. I know you in real life and think you’re funny, so that really counts. Some years are just about getting by and we are so hard on ourselves when we focus on getting by because achieve and American and do more then die. Either way I hope you finish out your 9 birth year (3 + 6, numerology mumblings) and this cycle with energy, love for yourself and the majority of your sanity. Happy Birthday.
thank you kim! and now i’m going to fall into the rabbit hole of numberology rumblings. gonna start a whole new collection in the bullet journal for it.
Happiest of birthdays to you, friend!
thank you!