JUVENILE . . .

I can still embarrass myself.

I'm embarrassed to admit that even at this age, I wish that people, especially women, liked me, and it bothers me when I think they don't or that they might not in the future. I feel insecure around women I don't know very well, and wish that I could be as at ease with them as others around me are. I wish I could be more outgoing and engaging, less loud and brusque, warmer, stand on a larger plot of common ground. I wish my personality meshed well with everyone else's, and that I didn't rub some women the wrong way. I wish I could make friends with women easily. I wish that my self-confidence never wavered, and that I always said the right things at the right time with the right inflection.

***

FOR REAL . . .

I took part in another conversation about birth order this evening with some friends.

It's really true, birth order does play into things a lot, really blurring the line between nature and nurture sometimes. At least among my friends, it truly does seem to determine many things about one's personality and behaviour.

It's so interesting to see it all play out.

***

OUCH . . .

Every time I swallow, it feels like I'm moving my throat around two large jagged pebbles.

***

ANOTHER ONE . . .

Rock on, Charles-in-Charge.

I raise my glass of room-temperature water to your 29th year, along with heartfelt prayers for wisdom, laughter, an ever-closer walk with our Father, good health, and a kick-ass trip to London.