Twenty-five. I typically don't do any pomp and circumstance regarding my birthday. I can't recall any particular adventure or excitement in regards to this day in past years. At 22 I was at PAPI practice. At 23, I spent a quiet weekend at home with the requisite family meal (I think). I remember the cute balloons I received then. At 24 I was still absorbing the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. At least for 25, I put in more effort to enjoy the occasion and actually do something: play tourist in NYC.

So in playing tourist on Wednesday I went to Mme Tussaud's wax museum, marveled over the freaky lifelike-nesses, posed with *NSYNC (le sigh), and browsed a bit at Conway and Macy's. Thursday was a light and lazy day at Newport as I haven't been there in forever. So it was just to get a feel for the mall again. Friday's destination was the Museum of Modern Art. I enjoyed the art, but it felt like a psychological brain study into the artists' minds. I think I prefer the Met, but I'll save it for next time. Ugh! Sometimes I'm such a philistine!

Even at 25 I still suffer Peter Pan syndrome and feel like an awkward adolescent (which supposedly ends at 26), but I suppose I'm moving forward with my current job. I need to push myself some more: academically, socially, spiritually, culturally, independently. I want to express myself better--verbally. I want to travel a bit. I want to learn more about the world, my work, the industry, and myself. I want to prepare more for the future and afterlife. I need the push. I still don't know where life will lead me, and I really need to follow Aunt Jimsie's advice. ("Do your duty by God and your neighbor and yourself, and have a good time.") Nevertheless, here's to the life's rollercoaster and God's blessings.

Faith, August 3, 2008