A year older

So Wednesday was my thirty-seventh birthday. I'm at the age where I do not want to have birthdays anymore. I don't really like the fact that I'm getting older. I want to avoid "olderness". I'm not sure why this is. Sure, I don't like wrinkles; I don't like my face looking aged. I don't like the flab that jiggles in places I didn't think it could. But it's more than that. It's a nostalgic notion that I want to still live vicariously, and having birthdays makes me think my vicarious living might be limited. Hmph. Crazy rollings of my mind. . .
My best friend surprised me on my birthday by coming down to see me. That was nice. And I was taken to the Mexican restaurant that I like. Good.
Now another year of focus. Sometimes my eyes get crossed.