Mongrels Prevail In The Slop

Mongrels Prevail In The Slop

I turn 31-years-old today. Birthdays are a strange milestone, especially if you’ve come from a dislocated and dysfunctional background. Instead of celebration they serve as a survival marker. They carry a strange emotional load, a baseline experience of disappointment from a past that has taught you to expect it.  Today, however, was slightly different.  I woke dry-throated and groggy, but in a sea of paper confetti, silver ‘three’ and ‘one’ bal…