Turing another year older…

November 9 is my birthday. I’m a bonafide, die-hard Scorpio.

Every year feels different. Some years, it feels like it’s never going to come back around. Other years, like 2025 for me, feels like the rest of it blew by, and what the fuck? We’re already in November? That means the year is almost over, which also means that we’re going to be correcting ourselves for about a month again after 2026 comes in swinging.

What is it about birthdays that makes people love or hate them, with almost nothing in-between? If you’re like me, you can celebrate for days and weeks after the day itself comes around. People get busy, and aren’t able to spend time with you the day of. You only have 24 hours in any given day. Trying to manage several people’s schedules may as well be like herding cats if your friends are anything like mine.

I never expect gifts from most people either. If they’re so inclined, sure, I’ll accept them. But I’ve always been one to care more about spending quality time with those I love, especially for important dates like my birthday or even a holiday. You can’t take your belongings with you when you die—only memories.