Ok. So I cheated

Waiting sucks. Though I'm not as excited for the big Three - Oh as I'm supposed to be - fact is I've dreaded birthdays for a few years now.

Ever since the annual traditions changed from the quiet days where the only fuss made was about sweets and new clothes,  rather than gathering the family around a table with pastries (ugh) and candles to be blown (thanks to the cousins who had started earning).

While I know it is a well - intentioned gesture to celebrate as a family,  I find it annoyingly invasive, and hate being made a fuss over.

And if you haven't noticed,  I hate pastries with a vengeance. All that sticky, greasy sickly sweet stuff, loaded with oodles of butter. I realize I'm weird, but for the life of me, I can't understand how people actually relish the stuff.

Anyway, this blog was intended as a journal of sorts. Starting on my 30th birthday. But I cheated. My first entry comes in as I'm rousing the bouncy bus to work. As I'm struggling with Herr Otto Korekt in the Swiftkey keyboard dictionary. Luckily, the swipe mode works (most of the time anyway), so it's not all bad.

So,  here I am, seated here in the third row, my backpack and an unread copy of Max Brooks's World War Z on my lap. Complaining to you. While tapping out on the phone, whatever passes through my polluted steam of consciousness. As I approach the last few days of my 20s. It doesn't really seem like a big deal or a landmark at all. Just like any other day I dread and constantly complain about.

Anyway, c'est la vie and all those clichés. Aug Wiedersehen to you.