Jon Furniss

So as of today I am 20 years old.

It doesn’t feel as weird today as it did yesterday right before I was 20 years old.

One more year until the second digit in my age is half of the the first digit. Let me tell you, I am excited about that.

Today, I am not interesting, I should be, since it’s my birthday, but I’m not.

I have the entire week from work, it’s like a vacation, because it is.

Other exciting news in my life is that I get my HD Tivo set up tomorrow, so I can DVR more TV than I can ever watch in High Definition Tivoey glory.

Here’s the first bit of poetry I’ve written in a while, which I wrote in math class while recovering from frostbite:

coldest. birthday. ever.

It feels approximately infinity below,
I’m surprised I didn’t freeze the moment my nose passed the doorstep.
I would’ve been a statue, moments before surprise,
eyes about to widen, mouth about to gape,
a perfect picture of the calm before the storm.
And then come spring, whether or not I start to melt,
I think I need a kiss to thaw me.

Bite frost like it’s always wanted to be bitten,
it’s like fighting fire with fire… but cold.
And maybe I should have worn a hat,
but I’d much rather your arms around my neck
than a scarf anyday.
But until then I’m still frozen,
and not getting any warmer.

Yeah, sorry for being fairly lame on my birthday.