Tomorrow, Thursday, June 21, 2012, I will be old. It still warps my brain thinking about it. I've walked the Earth for thirty years. How is that possible?

   Despite the learning disability that prevents me from remembering things from time to time and sends my mind down more avenues then a greedy cab driver, I can still recall, for some very odd reason, looking up from my crib when I was maybe 3 or 4 years old. There was a red light on a stereo or some other device in my parents old house in the South Beach section here on Staten Island.

   That might be one of the first memories I can still vividly recall. Why? Who knows....maybe its something that's supposed to correlate with my desire to become a New York City firefighter. Red lights ya know? Yeah, everyone goes to the "Red Light District", but if you know me for even 3 minutes, you know I'm nothing like "everyone."

   To say i'm...different...that would be the understatement of a lifetime. Eccentric? Oh yeah. Bizarre? Maybe. Weird? Yep. Off The Wall? Got that covered. Outside of the box? I can't even see the box.

   These things...these idiosyncrasies are something I've not only created for myself, but they're also something that have come to define me, for better or worse. They annoy some, amuse others.

   I'm not living an ideal life with these traits, but I'm by no means living an abysmal one. You see, if any time period has had an effect on me, it'd be the past 15 years. An odd number to be sure, even odder by the fact I really, really friggin hate numbers and hate math. I find it to be the unwanted cousin of the alphabet. Math is about as useful to me as a push-up bra(Which, if I give up on my workout routine, will actually become more useful then math...Hello man boobs.).

   In the past fifteen years, I've seen fire, I've seen rain...wait...I'm not James Taylor...but, I have seen fire, I have seen rain. I've seen death, I've seen war, I've seen the absolute worst of humanity and the absolute best in humanity, I've seen more then I should have seen...but I gained knowledge and insight from all of it.

   I've become very humbled you could say. Watching your own mother pass away can do that to a person I suppose. Literally seeing someone wither from a strong person to a frail shadow of a human like that had an incredibly profound impact on me. I had many a person at that time tell me that I wasn't dealing with it properly. Well, if anyone knew me, my mother, my father and the way our family structure worked, they'd know that we deal with things differently. Moreover, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE deals with things differently. I don't care if you are identical twins who dress the same into your forties, every person is an individual. Everyone handles situations in a way that alternates from one person to the next. So to say I didn't handle it the "correct way" is something that kind of irks me. Does it still hurt? Absolutely. It will hurt till my eyes close for the final time, 34,068 years from now(I'm straightedge, so I will naturally outlive everyone except Trumps hairpiece and the roaches in Grand Central.). Do I still have a tough time dealing with it? Absolutely. I still can't walk into her bedroom and its been nearly nine years. Does it make me weak? Maybe, but I rarely had a reason to go in there to begin with.

   But if I hinged on the sadness of that situation, I wouldn't be who I am today. It hurt, but so does getting a golf club to the crotch, but if there's anything Bob Saget and Americas Funniest Home Videos taught us, its that laughter is the best medicine...as is $10,000. Seeing as how I don't have access to a golf club and a willing between-the-legs target, I 'll settle for laughter. I spent enough time, especially in those days, feeling sorry for myself. And that didn't help.

   Laughter can be a great escape, especially in trying times. I can't tell you how many times I find myself in a rut and then I remind myself...somewhere in the world, some poor schlub is getting hit in the face with a pie. I remind myself of that and I smile. Then I realize I need to see a dentist. Remember early on in this Gettysburg speech when I told you my mind runs in more directions then a 7 year old in "Toys R Us"? Prime example right there.

   I guess that's one of the reasons I'm still single, no girl in her right mind could keep up with my intensity and insanity. Or maybe we just haven't found each other yet. This despite the fact I would have love in an elevator and do anything for love. Did I just reference Aerosmith and Meatloaf songs? Oh yes. I'm appealing to the girls who quote music every .23 seconds. Except most girls probably don't know who Aerosmith and Meatloaf are...not that I'll be getting a job at Rolling Stone or want one anyway. That is another problem people seem to think I have and one I may agree with them on.

   I've had seven jobs and about four internships or internship-like jobs. I've liked most of them for a grand total of one paycheck until they turned miserable. And by miserable, I mean imagine a sweaty fat man falling on you in July. In Phoenix. Now I've had many a person come up to me and say "you need to work really crappy jobs before you get something you like, even if its a paycheck. Just work." A lot of those people are old and either are working in a job they've always hated or retired from a job they've always really hated. I've done my time, unlike Roger Clemens, Charlie Sheen and Celine Dion(I friggin hate that song and you know which i'm talking about, she shoulda done 15-20 for it.), I've been crapped on by the workforce for so long just to almost scrape by and ya know what, I'm tired of it. I want to get paid for doing what I love. Why is that such a horrible thing in peoples eyes? I think the miserable naysayers are just so willing to let the world steamroll them that they want everyone to be as miserable as them. Not me, no way. I 'm far better, and not afraid to admit it.

   Its not super-ego, its ego, and a bit of that can take you far. Don't ever accept something that you feel is beneath you or is simply something you don't want. You put your effort in, you deserve better. Listen to me, I'm not Bill Clinton, but I am Hugh Heffner, except, ya know, minus the seven blondes. Just one will do. Or a redhead. Or a brunette, I'm not picky. Now with that anyway.

   Thirty is scary. It's indescribably scary. Everyone always says "Age is just a number." Know what? Those people are really friggin stupid and likely kidding themselves the same way Penguins think they can fly. Its scary for reasons that can't easily be described. But, just like twenty, hell, just like ten, its what you make of it. The impression that I get is that you're supposed to fit into some kind of a mold by this age.

   I suppose I could choose to sit at home, pay some bills, plan for a 401K(Whatever the hell that is.), research bond and or mutual funds, and even find a really good organic dressing to put on my salad(despite the fact I hate salad)...

   ...Or...I could grab my camera(s) and shoot some excellent photos of friends dressed like superheroes, pay $30 for a box of Lego(still the all time greatest stress reliever/creative tool EVER CREATED), plan a killer road trip, or find something to deep fry and or cover in chocolate(then openly regret it as I sit in front of toilet later while internally planning to do it again in 6 hours.)

   I think we all know what I'm going to choose. And to those who don't know, either stop reading now or look at the Ghostbusters logos that adorn the car I proudly drive. Yes, I am Luke Crisalli, I'm turning thirty, and i'm a geek, and damn freaking proud of it. I'm odd, I'm eccentric, I'm bonkers, bollocks and loony, I'm against the grain and sometimes off the wall. I'm more authentic then Levi's, I'm sweeter then Lemonheads, and more complex then a 500 piece puzzle of blue sky, I'm intensely nostalgic. I'm a child of the 80's, I'm a downloader, but not an upgrader. I'm an atheist and an independent, but not defined by either. I'm a turtle lovin, bacon eatin' one of a kind guy. I didn't just break the mold, I vaporized the factory that made the mold.

   Thirty? Bring it on.