I turn 27 today (well, technically at 10:56 PM), and I'm not really bothered by that. When I turned 25 I was depressed because I was a quarter-century old, and when I turned 26 I was depressed because I was no longer in my mid-twenties. But 27 lacks a landmark, so it's not a big deal this year. My sister Kristin is calling tonight to listen while I open her present, and Janet is calling later because it's my birthday and she loves me. Hopefully Janet's present will get here today, so I can gush over it on the phone, but coming all the way from Singapore it might not make it in time. Other than that, I have to do laundry, eat dinner by myself, watch Friends and Scrubs, study for the GRE, and get ready for Trinoc-con tomorrow. Not your typical birthday, I know, but it'll have to do. My parents are taking me to Tripp's for dinner on Sunday night, our annual tradition; my mother called me at work this morning and sang "Happy Birthday" to me over the phone.

I finished Lullaby by Mr. Palahniuk last night, and it was incredibly good, his best yet. Go out and buy a copy; it's the book with the fluorescent yellow dead starling on the cover. I'll be starting Requiem by Graham Joyce tonight.

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