Hello to the random group of people who have somehow found your way to my Substack, which, to this point has been a blank page - thank you all for your patience and don’t expect to hear from me again until who knows when!
Growing up I used to cry on my birthday ever year. I don’t really understand why I did - I’m not sure how much existential dread an 8 year old can feel, but clearly 22 years ago I was not looking forward to being another year older.
As I sit writing this on the precipice of “the big 30”, thankfully I feel none of the trepidation I felt about advancing through the years that I once did. While I still take a birthday selfie every year, recent years have featured much more of a smile (and, of course, one with a an expressionless mugshot - I have grand plans of plugging them all into some time warp photo thing when I’m old and making a glorious gif). Life is good! I’ve managed to craft an existence where I wake up every morning feeling pretty confident that I’m going to like, even love, whatever I do that day.
An earlier idea for this post was a long, galavanting list of learnings from my 20s, but nobody wants to read that and I didn’t want to write it. I also realized that the most important thing I actually learned in my 20s (with some very specific food and beer preferences in a close second), was how to get a better understanding of how I actually wanted to live my life. My first two decades were full of expectations, impositions, and rules to follow. My 20s, finally, were not. The training wheels were suddenly off, and I got to live by my own rules for the first time. I learned a lot, did a few things right, probably did more of them wrong, but came out pretty unscathed.
I learned I love being in the kitchen, riding my bike for a long time, getting really really really far away from civilization1, hound dogs, the bitter cold with lots of snow, beers that taste like a barnyard floor, Meghan, dive bars, depressing fiction2, cheap food from some dude on the street (preferably off a grill), long naps, the New York Mets3, working on something I really care about, and a good tomato4.
I learned that nobody is better off if I pretend to like the sun, champagne, sci-fi, being in the fucking car, wearing anything more formal than a t shirt, “wedding venues”5, whatever the hell “fintech” even is6, going to “the city”7, cake, brunch, or going home for thanksgiving8.
So, at risk of going on even further too long in a self indulgent post with no point, I’ll leave off with a toast to myself. Here’s to the next 30+ trips around the sun doing more of the things I authentically love, with less crying on my birthday, time in high school, and bad meals than the first 30.
P.S. This is going out at 11:59 P.M. If you are reading this from my house, please remind me to drink some water before bed. I’m old now, and the hangovers are creeping up stronger than ever. Also, please leave (except you Meghan). I’m old (see above) and tired and it’s past my bedtime.
Shoutout to Svalbard, the. most magical place I’ve found yet. I think things get cooler as the goes up, but passing 83° has proven tough.
I’m good! I just like books about sad people!
OK, I knew this one pretty early…
Not exhaustive
Getting married in my backyard was the best decision I ever made
No hate the the kensho homies. I just don’t care about finance!
Both Boston, that I live 4 miles from, or “the city” which will forever and always be new york
No shade to my family either, but taking a 4 day weekend to sit at home and eat truly hedonistic quantities of food instead of being stuck in traffic in Connecticut is the way to go and I will never go back
Happy birthday!
Loved this. Happy birthday man.