August 21st 2017 is an earth-shatteringly important day, one that will be remembered in for generations. Millions of people are traveling all over to key locations in America, to witness this event, so they might be able to pass down the tale to their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren (who will then do the same).
I get this. I mean, after all, it’s my 38th birthday. Of course it’s going to be a big deal. But it’s actually an even bigger deal, because today there is also a total solar eclipse that will not be visible in this area again for roughly 400 years.
These events coming together can only mean one thing: I am The Chosen One™.
Think about it. It all fits: I mean, I live in America. It’s my birthday. And it’s an incredibly rare cosmic event. Therefore, Chosen One. Now, chosen for what? I have no idea. It could be any of the following:
- I may or may not need to be on the lookout for a Highlander who claims there can be only one
- I may or may not transform into some kind of hideous monster at the apex of the eclipse
- I may or may not discover that I have a message of good news that needs to be shared with the entire world1
But what will it really be—and does it really matter?
After all, isn’t that the point of these events? The fun, the drama of them?
Some might call it coincidence. Others may prefer a term like providential. But all of that boils down to semantics really. Whatever word you want to use, what’s really important is the simple fact that I, along with every other person in this specific part of America who shares a birthday with me, am The Chosen One™.
Or, y’know, not. But that’s significantly less fun, isn’t it?
- Wait, that one’s actually true… ↵