Sunday, June 12, 2005

June 12, 1968

June 12, 1968. Curry County, New Mexico. Clovis Memorial Hospital.

A baby breathed his first breath, emerging into an unknown world. A world at war. A war of violent revolutionary proportions in Asia; a clash of cultures in the Americas. On that day many people died and I was chosen to be born.

I've met only one other person born on that same day, and that was many years ago. I could bore you with the names of those who share the same birthday, but to no avail, you could just look them up on the internet yourself.

A few years ago birthdays stopped being celebratory and started being reflective. "What have I done this year? Am I better off now than one year ago? Do I still have clear goals? Did I accomplish any of last years goals?" I can't say that I have clear cut ambitions right now. I can say that I've not become worse off. But the fact remains that I'm not that much better off. I'm still single, I have not yet found the person that's right for me. I think that contributes quite a bit to the way I feel sometimes. It would be nice to be able to roll over during the middle of the night and listen to the breathing and feel the heat of a lover, calming and reassuring me that they find the same security in my presence. As a young man I was always told that eventually I would find my other half. That searching and playing the dating game was not necessary. Perhaps I let my other half slip through the .

On my 25th birthday I was kidnapped by some of my friends and taken to the premiere of "Jurassic Park." That makes me feel old now. Oh well. June 12, 2005 seems to have become just another day. No cake, no silly hats, no kinapping. I may go get another tattoo later today.

My eyes are itchy right now, my allergies are acting up. I'd better go.