Good Friday. April 6, 2007. According to Christian beliefs, Jesus was crucified today. Well, not exactly today, or even this day in history. There is no evidence in the Bible that suggests a specific day, but it is believed to have occurred in March or April, and there is evidence indicating that it happened the day before the Sabbath. Thus it must have been a Friday. Christians celebrate Good Friday on the Friday before Easter. Easter is a calculated date… the Sunday after the 14 day after the ecclesiastical full moon in March that occurs after March 21, or the vernal equinox. Don't ask me to explain further, because I fear that it would be far too complicated for you to understand, let alone for me to explain. One would think that this day would not be considered exactly "good". It is, in fact, the saddest day in the Christian faith, but it is called "good" to signify that Christ died to liberate humanity from sin. This "saddest" day of the year is a mere two days away from the day Christians believe to be the "happiest" day of the year. No, it's not Christmas… it's Easter. And of course it's the happiest day of the year because that's when the Easter bunny breaks into your house and leave chocolate eggs behind your plants and under the cushions on your couch. Oh, and also it's the day that Jesus rose from the dead. Oh… by the way. Today is my 40th birthday. Hence the post title including the text "Bad Friday". No, all that mumbo jumbo above was not really there to distract and bore you to the point where you would give up reading before you got here. Cuz here's where I bear my soul to the interwebby thing. As I approached this date, I always thought that it was just another day. Just another year. Just another number. I always thought it was a little silly to be concerned and fixated on this particular milestone like it was spelling the end of the world or something. Well, how ridiculous, right? Wrong. For some reason, approaching this day caused anxiety in my life that increased as this God-foresaken date got closer… and closer… and closer. And now, I'm 40. Forty. Quarante. XL (in Roman Numerals, which, conincidentally and equally depressing is my new clothing size). The sun rose this morning. The birds are singing. The world is still turning. My family still loves me. I still have my job, my health, my debts, my dog, my computer. Forty is not so bad after all. I think I might just survive this without having to buy a sportscar. Notice the candle on the cake. 7. My age today (40) subtract my age then (7) = 33. This is the age Jesus was when he was crucified. Coincidence? You tell me.