I was asked if I ‘..got anything good for my birthday?’ and my answer was an enthusiastic ‘…yes! The sun.’ For real, it was the best gift I could of received. I fell asleep on the night of March 29th, tripping out to the Big Dipper light years above me and wishing upon a shooting star which I believe was not invented by sleepy eyes. I could see every star and I knew that meant there was going to be a clear sky for tomorrow. The weatherman and I were right. I awoke to the sound of birds (where did they go all this time I do not know) and the sun coming through the window. I rebelliously decided that school was not for me today. Rather, I stayed home and laid on my warm roof while the catchy beats from the Postal Service CD jammed out of my walkman. It felt lovely. I was perfectly happy. I knew exactly how to take advantage of the beautiful weather and enjoy my birthday to the finest and it consisted of one word: ROLLERBLADING. I snapped on my brand new roller blades and owned South Park trails with my ego-full moves. I was flying. It felt good to be on skates again. I like to move fast like that. I love that I have that slight fear in the back of my mind that if I hit a tiny stick, it could all be over for me. It’s risky. It’s a rush. I freaking love roller blades, regardless of how retro they are anymore. My day was made special by the few who have my unconditional love. My family, who I shared a kickass dinner with at my favorite egg-roll-making Sesame Inn. Also, my bestest friend Katie who accompanied me in skipping out on school and spending the say laying in the sun at Brentwood Square and randomly bursting out to song and dance. Everyone sang happy birthday to me. I had two birthday cakes. My two favorite kind: confetti cake and krybels bakery cake. Oh, paradise. I ended the night at the Beehive down Southside with my sister Rachel and Heather. Feeling stoned from the birthday hits on the way there, I had an awesome time talking with the two of them and just enjoying everything. Taking in the day as best I could. Everyone says ‘.. I don’t feel any older’ when asked that cliché birthday question. But I really do feel older. 18. An adult. It’s crazy. But I know I’ve grown up after my 18 years of existence. I’m certain of myself, and for once-- I’ve got my feet on the ground walking towards my fate while enjoying my present.