21 is half of 42!

Yeah, so, in case you guys don't know, today I have officially, legally come of age. Of course, this is my physical age only, anybody who doesn't know, I think I'm stuck somewhere between 1st and 6th grade otherwise. Honestly, this about sums it up:

(Ben's to blame for the card, but everybody that I've met over here signed on the inside, and, though I know it's a little thing with very little actual emotion behind it, it still touched me. So in case anybody over here reads this, thanks. Of course, this in no way belittles the card that I received in the mail from the states, as I told my mom about five minutes ago, I truly am blessed to have such amazing and caring friends and relations. It's not really that common, and I'm smart enough to realize that. Thanks to you guys too.)

But yeah, back to topic. . . 21, eh? It really doesn't seem like that big a step on paper, just one more year, but I feel as if I have yet to actually make a mark on the world, and last night I stayed up for hours attempting to figure out what mark I want to make. Stupid maturity. I'll just have to keep those kinds of thoughts suppressed, that's healthy, right? So, what's the conventional way to celebrate this kind of a milestone? 'Cuz, let's face it folks, the odds are against any human being in being able to survive for 21 years, it's a kind of commonplace miracle that's often ignored. So, as I've seen over here, the tradition is to party. And not the little kiddy party with a terrifying clown that nobody likes yet they hired out anyways. No. The kind of little kiddy party that involves obscene amounts of alcohol, stumbling, and usually vomiting. Of course, these symptoms are often seen with the clown hired for the party, so parallels are impossible to avoid. Basically, the way I see it, we go from hiring drunken clowns for parties to becoming the drunken clowns in parties. Ahhh, maturity.

Of course, sadly, this is not what is going to happen for me on my 21st birthday. I make a clown out myself often enough that it would just be another boring day if the party went down like that, plus, I don't drink. Which is REALLY the exception over here, so nobody knows how to react to such a milestone in my life. I'm honestly perfectly happy with a good cake, a good movie, and some good friends. That's really the perfect party for me.

Of course, a little icing on the day is never looked down upon.

So I did some buildering. For the non-climbers among you, I scaled a building:

This building, to be specific. Happy Birthday Me! It's the vet tower, a building here at Massey devoted to solely veterinarian students, and, on two days a year (by pure virtue of the MUAC being awesome) anybody who wants to go up it. I won't go into specifics, but suffice it to say that the rock is really, really, really rough, and the building is really, really, really tall, so the climb is none too easy. I came off of it bleeding, bruised, happy, and 21. A metaphor indeed. I leave it up to you as to what the metaphor is for.

Butko, slightly older now, out. Later all.