T-pisode 36: Birthday Epiphany?

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Happy Birthday T

My birthday is in a few days. I will become the number of a famous legendary Boston Celtics basketball player. And am I worried? No. Yes. Ahhh a little. Not so much about the age. You see I’ve never been a person who had to do certain things by a certain age. I’ve always been concerned more about doing enough while I can still do it. Marriage. Kids. Owning a house. 2.5 children. All things I hope to have one day but by no means will I force it and settle like some people out there. Why sacrifice the person you like to become somebody other people think they want? I don’t live for anybody but myself. And why take on the responsibilities of other lives when you’re still figuring out how to be responsible for your own life? Plus I have a list of things I still need to do that I can only do by being the me I am now and not the me that is a husband and a father. Don’t get me wrong. I’d marry the right girl tomorrow if I found her. But that would mean she’d be right enough for me to still be able to do what I’m trying to do all the while the me I am now will have to be right enough for her. Was that confusing? Read it again. I did. But my upcoming birthday and this past year of what I call my “Rollercoaster Year” of ups & downs has me in a state of mind where I was truly humbled and given a vision that I never had before. Which all resulted in the conclusion that….I’m human.

What a fucking realization?! An epiphany maybe? I don’t know. What I do know is I’m now human enough to realize that I am no longer faster than a speeding bullet. No longer more powerful than a locomotive. Wait. That’s Superman. My bad. No “S” on my chest but I have a “T” on my shoulder. For me it only really means a longer hangover recovery time. A slower metabolism. A new kind of gym soreness. Gray hairs popping out. A shorter dumb chick and douchebag tolerance. And an extra hour of sleep at night. Not really too life changing. I can adapt to this new routine. Not a problem. What has been an awakening is that I now have this gift of wisdom that comes with age and experience. You can learn a lot from books and school but living a life the way I have apparently results in an abundance of wisdom that I can bring to many different tables. It’s pretty cool. I can put it into my writing. I can share it at business meetings. I can tell younger dudes what I did when I was in that situation. I’m also pretty good at teaching my nieces & nephew about some awesome life shit. And women now seem to find me attractive on another level beyond my really really ridiculously good looks, income and fantastic sense of humor. This is something you don’t have in your 20s. I may no longer be the invincible beast I once was in my 20s but the knowledge and ability to know better now is one hell of a getting old perk! Plus T in his 20s was a complete asshole. For reals.

So as I enter this birthday, which I might ring in low-key as opposed to my past epic hell raising birthdays where mass destruction has occurred, I enter it knowing I’m a human full of life knowledge. Not bad. The number of this birthday doesn’t scare me. The whole am I doing enough to become the man I would like to become scares me a bit. I’m thinking this thought process is a result of the year I had. So at this point all I want to do is reach my birthday and start a new year fresh. As a humbled guy full of wisdom ready and fucking aching to make his mark on this world. Happy birthday to T.

Until next time. Always take it there.



  1. I feel ya on this one as my birthday is coming up soon too. Hope you have a good one 😉


  2. Mr. T,

    While the hours are dwindling down to whatever birthday you are celebrating, please remember the words of the oh so wise Baz Lurman: wear sunscreen.


  3. Washed up at 33?! U can still tear it up, just lay off the shots a bit, happy bday


    1. WHAT?! You need to go back and read that shit again man! Haha. Washed up? That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m a bottle of fine wine…better with age. Less Patron does help though.


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