A New Confusion

I went to bed Friday night with my subconscious red-flagging me. I had been preparing myself for months, since this was not something that I could just transition to in one day. However, I had been lagging behind in my preparations, due to the fact that I didn't want to think about it. Because, of course, thinking about it meant it was destined to happen.

Well, the inevitable finally occurred early Saturday morning. I was lying in bed, watching the best action-drama series of all-time with my beloved wife, 24, when I was suddenly compelled to grab my phone and look at the time. It was midnight. 12:00am, on February 18th, the year of our Lord, 2012. For most people on this earth, this would be of no significance, but for Amy and I, that day marked the end of an era. Our oldest daughter, Megan, was now 20 years old! How did this happen? Where had the time gone?

All of a sudden, we had one less tax deduction, and were now (gasp) old! I paused, in silent contemplation, as these realizations sank in. I didn't want to be 'old'! Those gray hairs that sprout daily, were really just ones doused in white paint from my job. Those creaks and cracks, and pains were only temporary ailments and were most definitely not because my body had started decaying, I reasoned. Megan may now be 20 years old, but there was no way that Amy and I were fossils yet! We hadn't accomplished anything yet in our lives to make us old. There had to be an explanation that would allow me to save face and defy the space-time continuum. All I had to do was find it. I searched and searched (for a good 5 minutes), and eventually determined that Megan has been aging at approximately a 1.5:1 ratio over Amy and me. It's the only thing that made sense. So, it seems that we are destined to have our kids pass us in physical age but remain younger in numerical age. In the end, that makes me feel a whole heck of a lot better, and that's all that matters, right?

Annual Introspection

It's that accursed time of the year again, when the depression soaks into my inner being, the apathy sets in, and my mind goes into hibernation mode. What does it all mean? Bam, another effin February...

What does this particular month have to do with anything, you ask? Plenty.

February's meaning might best be kicked off with a bief glimpse at the etymology of the month's moniker. The word February is born from the Latin word Februarius, from Latin februare meaning to "purify" or "expiate."

In ancient Rome, Februarius was the "Month of Purification" and great festivities were held to re-establish the empire's focus on righteous living.

With that said, it sounds like a great month to cleanse or gain a fresh perspective on life or matter related to it. However, from past happenstances, this month is the bane of my current existence. It seems like every year, of the negative impacts on my life, the worst ones seem to originate from this dumpy month. I could go into the year-by-year results for the last 25 years or so, but I digress.

My main reason for writing this blog is to inform others to be wary and cognizant of the dangers of this pathetic and useless month. Presidents Day can be moved to January to coincide with the entering and exiting of the White House. Black History Month can now be Black History year-round. I will evenly gladly move my anniversary to March if we can abolish all future Februaries, thus sparing me untold misery and suffering. Please sign a petition, call your congressperson, cross out the 2nd months on your calendars. DO history a favor today! Thank you, that'll be all.