In about two weeks, I'll be turning 30 at which point I'm guessing I'll have a kind of self reflective experience that may include a 30-minute shower (presumably to hide my tears from the ghosts in my apartment), a pot roast-cooking (or a new slow cooked protein recipe), some dart throwing, and scotch drinking. In other words, it'll be just another day in the life.
Five years ago, my best buddy and I planned a Vegas trip for our 50th birthday. May 27th is his birthday and June 8th is mine, and we were both turning 25 so what better way to celebrate than a debaucherous (I may have just made up this word) weekend in Las Vegas. 50 Hrs in Vegas for combined 50 years. It was a glorious disaster.
That was five years ago.
Vegas was an appropriate precursor to the five years that followed. I brought the Vegas party back to Los Angeles with me, a sort of 2-in-1 overflowing celebration of life of friends of excess. I lived outside of my means and in some sense struggled to find an identity - first exploiting LA (or being exploited by it), next settling down in cozy relationship-world - never quite striking a balance between the two.
Earlier I wrote a headline for Frank's Redhot Sauce that goes: "It takes strong wings to fly." It made me start writing this blog. While the headline for Frank's might not make any sense, it has some relevance here. I took a leap, a 2200 mile leap, when I moved out of Los Angeles to Atlanta to do this copy writing thing at a school with "circus" in its name. I may not have much to show for the last five years besides an abyss where my money and my brain used to be, but I think I grew the plumage required for the flight.
Also, happy birthday Mike!
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