On Becoming That Guy at the Party: The Dilemma of Poor Johnny One Note
Imagine you’re at a dinner party. (And for those less inclined to go to anything as bougie as a dinner party, imagine a house party or a party that includes people drinking and eating and talking—you know, a fucking party…)
I give myself permission to be a living, breathing, learning, failing, succeeding, complicated human being. For if I don’t, there’s no point in celebrating a birthday.