Birthdays are when we all celebrate the fact that we’ve made it another twelve months without dying. It should therefore come as no surprise that I consider the birthdays of blacks a much more impressive accomplishment than that of whites. Why, just this morning I was listening to the weather report and it predicted clear sunny skies; except if you were black, in which case you could expect thunderstorms, flooding and a freak tornado.
When I was younger, I would always wish I could live to be the oldest person on earth. But that was before I learned that the title is actually cursed. Haven’t you noticed that every time someone is declared the oldest person on earth, they die like within a year!
Now that I’m only two years short of three decades old, I’m crossing that ephemeral line between young adult and adult adult. (That’s where you still want to eat fruit loops, but at the same time you're concerned about its fibre content.)