Today is my birthday. I feel really old. Where did the last few years go? I need a change of me.
No related posts.
da na na na na na
It’s my birthday too, yeah
da na na na na na
You say it’s your birthday?
Happy birthday to you
Actually it’s not my birthday, but I thought it would make you feel better.
I hope it is not because you have such an old student as me that makes you feel even older about yourself.
Is it the particular year that makes you feel old or perhaps what you’re up to or who surrounds you or what you’ve been doing for the past few years?
It’s all so relative. And I’m certainly noticing that the older I get, the definition of “old” shifts quite a bit.:)
Hope you had a great day!
Happy belated birthday! You’ve never once struck me as old ;)
What a coincidence…my birthday is July 20th! I hope your day was as special as mine was! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :-)
Thanks everybody! I notice that this, along with my anniversary post, generated a large number of comments. I guess I need to make up more personal holidays :).
happy birthday alex!
may you discover the path of transcending age and feeling old …
Happy belated birthday Alex!!!
I was clicking around and I saw a wired article on social networks. I thought you might be able to use it but knowing you, you’ve probably encountered it already!!
Happy Birthday, Alex!
Don’t forget: 40 is the new 30. :)
Hey, Aaron, that sounds strangely familiar :).
Jamie finally made me go to see a doctor about a range of strange symptoms, including the loss of use of my hands (thus the light blogging). He was as clueless as I suspected he would be (doctors = bleh! [er, except you, friendly doctor-readers]), and I’ve spent the last few days having fluids drawn from me and rays passed through me, and sitting in aseptic-smelling waiting rooms, thus leading to an uncharacteristic blahness. They’ve ruled out some pretty obvious root causes. I suggested an alien infestation, but quickly retracted this when Herr Doktor’s errant eyebrow suggested I might be sent off to a whole ‘nother group of specialists.
Of course, every time I’ve ever seen a doctor (averaging about 1x every 8 years recently), they seem to think it’s my fault for not having easy ailments. Yes, I have an extra rib. Yes, I had (until surgically removed–unfortunately) an extra row of pointy teeth. Sure, my normal core temperature is a couple of degrees low, and my resting pulse tends to, well, rest. (When I was a young teen, I had a cardiologist ask if I was alive. As if teenagers don’t have enough existential angst.) But, come on: deal with it! If I were a doctor, I’d be happy for the challenge!
Anyway, you need to know about my health difficulties about as much as you need to know about the color of my bedroom. Yes, it is still extremely orange, due to the while-you-were out surprise from Jamie & co-conspirators. A lighter color to rag-on over has now been pushed to Thanksgiving break, I think. All of this is the kind of too much information (TMI) navel gazing that I promised myself I’d never blog.
If it turns out I really am dead, or the outcome is equally interesting, I’ll blog it. Otherwise, if it is not already obvious, my hands are in fully functional ~60 wpm shape, so I should be able to buckle down and get back to work.
Happy belated birthday!
Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *
You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>
Notify me of follow-up comments by email.
Notify me of new posts by email.