Gimmie my fried chicken

There's only a few days left til July 23, which would then be only 70 days til my birthday. Don't ask me what one has to do with the other, just another random piece of trivia I measure my life by.

25. Shit. I'd better start the mental prep now. I know it's not as big a deal, socially, but to me there's always a line marked straight down the mid 20s, separating your real life and what came before it. 24, 23, that's just your early 20s, things haven't begun to take shape yet. Merely drifting through life, taking stabs at things and seeing if they would stick. late 20s always felt like the time for molding. Making a start on creating the life you want with the bits and pieces that solidified over time.

I am definitely not where I thought I'd be 5 years ago. I'm going to put that down as a good thing for now.

I can tell you what I do need though, baking trays, cookie sheets, mixing bowls, a plant that does not require too much of the photo part of photosynthesis.

Today was a beautiful day though ultimately spent in vain. We made extra effort, we thought we were safe. We thought arriving at 4:45am was going to be enough to get us tickets to see Al Pacino act.

Getting to the west side of Central Park well before the sun had risen, debating amongst ourselves all the what ifs of different paths to take. The veterans around us were shaky about it, but quietly confident. The confidence rubbed off on us, when they herded us in like cattle to position us for the next 7 hours, we were encouraged by the sight of the Hope Rock, a little ways behind us. Everything felt optimised for success. The weather never rose above a comfortable summer breeze, we were under the canopy of an expansive tree. Those who have experienced, and were thus better prepared, lent us blankets to sit and take naps on. We shared snacks, jokes, conversation, and a genuinely glorious morning in the park. Only to be stabbed through our eager hearts, repeatedly. To add insult to injury, we were greeted by the numerous scalpers along our defeated exit. All the line cutters, the homeless bums out to turn a buck. We held strong to our beliefs and refused them, as tempting as they were, as our souls cried out "You are not worthy!!"

And now, a sulk and a nap later.