There are two gifts I’ve received on my birthday that meant a great deal to me and that i’m unlikely to forget for the rest of my life. The first, given to me on my birthday in fifth grade by my parents, was a copy of Command & Conquer: Generals. I didn’t get a lot of computer games when I was a kid, because my parents were concerned I spent too much time on the computer already, which made this gift all the more meaningful. My mom wrote a lovely note along with it that I almost didn’t read in my sheer excitement. I still think the trend of digital sales, despite their overwhelming convenience, robs us of the joy of tearing off the cellophane, breathing in that glossy smell of a case, and greedily devouring every bit of the in-game manual with its lore and illustrations. I spent the rest of my summer vacation glued to the screen, and that game (along with other Command & Conquer titles) influenced my aristic and aesthetic inclinations so broadly that I can confidently say that I wouldn’t be the same person today without it. Thank you Mom and Dad.

The second was given to me when I turned 25, by someone who put in a lot of time and effort to create a dense scrapbook of around 30 pages full of photographs of us, hand-drawn illustrations, and smatterings of inside jokes. I’m 29 as of writing this post, and nothing since then has come close to matching its scope or pure-hearted tone. There’s very few human experiences (at least that I can think of) that match the feeling of being loved by someone. Thank you SVR. If you’re reading this, know that I started this blog in no small part due to your insistence on me writing and sharing my thoughts with the world.