Yup, a bunch of you guessed it. It's the annual anniversary of my early birth. Yup, 7 weeks early, and I just couldn't wait to get out. And I find it amusing when folks ask how I'm celebrating. Since I already did last weekend, I'm just not really doing much of anything. Really, it's always been less than exciting. I'm not big on birthdays. I tried the whole party thing for a while, but after a few fiascos, I'm not really that big on them anymore. And don't talk to me about surprise parties. They usually ended up being rather painful, like the time my firends took me to "a little Italian place" which ended up being Chucky Cheese. Um, yeah. I was a good sport, but not exactly a celebration of the day I was born. I felt rather mocked. Yippee.
Nowadays, it seems that I have a lot more fun. Had a fantastic weekend with the man - lots of chinese buffet, a bit of wandering around looking at costumes and other fun stuff, picking out pumpkins, a stop off at Miles' party, and a visit to the Symphony. It was all wonderful. And we didn't even do everything we'd planned! Low key, no asinine people badly singing to me because they work in a restuarant, and just simple fun. There are so many opportunities for stupid shit on your birthday - I was glad to not have to deal with most of it. As usual, my family hasn't called or anything, but I got some lovely cards in the mail and wishes from co-workers.
I dunno - I'd prefer it was just another day. I've gotten mixed messages my entire life about birthdays, so I'd prefer to just go about things as if it was just another day. Usually nothing utterly stupendous happens on my birthday, and I've had a lot of bad happen. So at this point, I'll take my joy in nice wishes, slogging through another 4 hours of class, and being taken to a nice lunch by my boss. And look forward to a martini with my honey this evening. It's enough. It's really just enough.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment