“B!tch don’t kill my vibe!” Kendrick Lamar
I was born on what is typically the last day of Spring, which has always been so poetically perfect for me. Spring is the time of transformations in nature and in the self. Spring is a time of rebirth after winter’s slumber. A time for new projects, new ideas. The end of Spring can signify that it is done. Accomplished. Ready for Summer, which in a word = PARTY! To be born on the cusp of the metamorphosis and the transformation, the “evolving,” is so me.
The IRS has had my birth date wrong for the last 29 years. That is NOT a typo: 29 years, wrong birth date, me, the IRS, bunch of bull. I discovered this fact about 12 years ago and have “corrected” it 9 times. Read that sentence again, out loud, this time: “I discovered this fact about 12 years ago and have “corrected” it 9 times.” True dat. I have written letters, made phone calls, read every FAQ page on the internet on this subject, filed forms, and personally gone to the Social Security Administration in three different states – because the IRS pulls their data from the SSA. The only problem is that it never gets fixed.
I dread tax season, not for the typical reasons, though. I dread tax season because my return gets screwed up, held up, jacked up and causes me a lot of stress every year. Because of the birth date thing. Not this year folks. This year I decided to be the person that the IRS and the SSA keeps telling me I am. I filed my taxes today ( yes, a bit late, I know – I told you I dread it). I didn’t change the information, I let it ride. I’ll contact the Social Security Administration again to fill out more forms, once my proper return is safely deposited into my happy savings account.