I had myself psyched up over this day, and this occurance; both for the good, and the bad. Mostly bad.

You know what? I’m not any different than I was… years ago.

I’m still mentally twelve. Most guys won’t admit that (in public.) Don’t get me wrong, farts aren’t a laugh riot, and I am capable of working well with groups of people, even people that I might not like – but really, not much else has changed.

I still don’t like facial hair; I used to think it looked strange.. now that I have it on a daily basis, it itches. I can’t grow a full beard, and if I did, I’d look like a twelve year old with a beard.

I can’t stand the sweets that I used to love, and if it’s salty, and NOT potato chips, I don’t want it. It’ll just make me feel lethargic. Chips are worth it, though.

Other than that, everything’s the same as it always was.. other than that evil three in front, which means I’m never going to go to a rave..

... maybe being thirty isn’t so bad.