Relax. This is not my suicide note.
I turned 36 yesterday. Things were supposed to be different by now. I was supposed to have a couple kids, instead of one kid making friends with mannequins at the mall.
Our house was supposed to be bigger. Our debt was supposed to be smaller. I should have seen Europe by now. Italy, at least. I should know how to cook more than four things. I should have read more books. I mean, I know I wrote a book. That was something. But I can’t shake this feeling that there is so much more to do, and not a lot of time to do it.
Sometimes I wish I lived in a vacuum, be one of those people whose thoughts rarely venture beyond what’s for supper, what shirt goes with these pants, and what time The Bachelor comes on. I don’t know, maybe if I stopped looking around I’d see less shit. But that doesn’t mean the shit wouldn’t be there. It’s everywhere. Shit on top of shit, with a side order of shiitake mushrooms drizzled in shit sauce. Missing airliners in the ocean. Sweet doggies left out in the cold. Slut-shaming. Gay-hating. Cancer, cancer, cancer. Rape, rape, rape. North Korean men forced to have Kim Jong-un’s haircut. Women having to “lean in”, and, of course, stay lean. And for some shit icing on the shit cake, Ben Affleck is going to play Batman. What the eff, man. Everywhere I look, I see a hundred million things that make me want to shake my fist at the moon and yell WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. I mean seriously, Universe, it’s 2014. Are you kidding me right now? I cannot live in this world.
But see, I can live in this world. Because my Max is here. And he’s awesome. And he’s going to help change some of the shit, even if it’s just a little bit, long after my saggy old ass goes tits-up.
I mean, look at that face. So full of possibility…
and pita. And not at all like a serial killer from a horror movie.
Look out, world. Because…THIS GUY.