I was halfway through writing an entry about the holes in my socks, but then stopped because I realized that I could be spending my time writing about other things.

November! Whoo!

Was just thinking that I know a good handful of people that are born in the first few days of November in ’81. My high school friend Sharon was born today on the 1st. My lab partners from university were born on the 4th and 5th. Ron, you’re on the 4th as well, right? I wonder if there’s something that brings us together? I mean, it’s not like I’m actively seeking out people with birthdays in the vicinity of mine. It’s like the distribution of birthdays among people I know is more concentrated around this time. Strange, eh?

The gears are turning already with regards to figuring out what I’m going to write about around my birthday. For the past few years I’ve been doing some retrospective analyzing and it’s been regularly therapeutic. Things is, I’m not sure whether I can be so introspective this year. Something is different. It’s like…the year passed just was what it was: is there a need to analyze? It’s hard to put what I’m feeling into words. I think, at least for the time being, I’m feeling like my focus is shifting from the past, to have a little bit more of a look at my present and future.

When I write, I often have something of an existentialist tilt, but truthfully, I have a foot stuck in the past. I’ve always had that foot there, and that’s part of what makes me such a nut case. Seriously. Anyway, I’m starting to hear a small voice in my head though that’s asking me to pay heed to my ambitions. Suddenly, I need to know what I want from my life. It was never really an issue before. I kind of question whether it’s really become an issue now, but the fact that I’m even considering it is kind of interesting.

Hey, of course, things could change in the next few days and I could be back to picking myself apart. Why does it have to be difficult, man?