10th Anniversary of Devastation and Disappointment
Last week was the tenth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.
I need to go back a month or so further.
In July of 2005, I was working for Hasbro. Yeah, me at a toy company! The low wages and long commute couldn't diminish the many, many awesome aspects of that temp job. My shelves are still crammed with the freeeeeeeee toys they gave away all the fucking time! I was in heaven, and 29, and married to the best Coyote, and finally shaking off the worst of the hurt from the implosion of our first poly quad. In many senses, I was at the top of my game, and jubilant.
Unlike so many of my age-mates, I was really pumped to turn 30. I'm not sure if it's a Contrary thing or just another aspect of my refusal to grow up, but I still relish becoming older. I giggle excitedly at the new lines on my face (love my first mouth-line), I count fractions of the year like little kids do, and I admire my first grey hairs so much, I'm hoping to keep my hair dyed or supershort or both until there's enough of them to really show. Will strangers stop talking to me like a teenager, then? I hope so!
I even insist on candles in my birthday cake for my actual year, plus one to grow on. It's lovely to bathe in that glow that's brighter every year, and blowing them all out in one breath is tricky!
Anyway, 2005. I was feeling so good about myself, and I'd never ever done something big for my birthday. But, 30! The big 3-0! Hell yeah, why not?
So I booked a flight to New Orleans for late December.
Yeah, you know how this ends.
Katrina killed, maimed, destroyed, displaced so many.
And she also washed out my birthday-vacation. Bitch.
Well, really, Southwest did. When the airport shut down, they cancelled all flights to New Orleans, without notifying the passengers. Bitch.
When I called in Octoberish to check that everything was still good, the surprised customer service person said, "Oh yeah, they're admitting flights there again." Wat. A few more keystrokes and she confirmed that all flights to New Orleans were totally booked for late December, but ummm, I get credit for the lost trip!
There wasn't anywhere else I wanted to turn 30. I used half the credit on a combo LARP event/short hangout in Baltimore, and let the other half expire. I had another quiet birthday with my Coyote.
I've had almost nothing but quiet birthdays since. The past three have been exceptions, just as I wanted them to be. "I need three years to ramp up to all the awesome that 40 will be!", I said in 2012. I've been saving money, but I still have no idea what I want to do. I don't know why I'm stressing over it.
I know I won't get to go to DisneyWorld like one age-mate just did. I'd need double my saved money, at least.
I know I won't have a big party like another age-mate just did. No space, and that time of year, ugh. Everyone's got better things to do. Delaying a week or two puts it in the depths of winter, where the snow and ice and freezing cold will keep most people home. I don't get out enough to have a throng of friends anymore, if I ever did.
I fear that once I start spending my money, it'll vanish in an eyeblink. And I've got a 20th(!!!) anniversary with Coyote and 2nd with Tiger and Christmas all before then.
My best guess is that I'll squeeze in a nice restaurant meal or two with the boys and get new chairs for the living room. But let me dream.
There's practical things I long for: a men's electric razor might be able to grant me the truly bald head that I can't risk trying with razors, because of my two prominent bumps. (Unicorn horns-to-be, I say, though it's fine if they want to become antlers instead.) There are a lot of options on the market now for undergarments to make skirts and dresses comfortable for those of us with fleshier thighs, and my old solutions are few and dying. There's a lot of new vinyl of old albums- how fucking awesome would it be to listen to some of the best 311 albums with those delicious pops and cracks?
Or a gym membership! I'm just coming into when that would be so awesome to have, and there's a nearby gym with a great deal: only $20/month, but you have to put up a fantastic sum to start. Yeah, $250ish makes me gasp and wonder how anyone can ever save that much scratch, these days. *sighs* That's definitely a really great gift to myself, but there's a fear that unless I can addict Tiger or Coyote into being my gym-buddy (I can take one of them in, free, every single visit!), I'll hardly use it during hibernation.
Travel. It makes me tear up just to write that word. I haven't seen post-Katrina New Orleans, but I'd love to. I've got a hardcore longing to be in the pine woods of Maine. Even at a fucking rest stop.
The Society. Provincetown. Block Island.
I don't even know when I'm crossing state lines next, and living in the smallest state, that's pathetic. I could walk to Seekonk, or bike it if I was in shape.
Club Choice.
Pub Night.
A movie in a theatre?
Maybe for my fiftieth. :(
I need to go back a month or so further.
In July of 2005, I was working for Hasbro. Yeah, me at a toy company! The low wages and long commute couldn't diminish the many, many awesome aspects of that temp job. My shelves are still crammed with the freeeeeeeee toys they gave away all the fucking time! I was in heaven, and 29, and married to the best Coyote, and finally shaking off the worst of the hurt from the implosion of our first poly quad. In many senses, I was at the top of my game, and jubilant.
Unlike so many of my age-mates, I was really pumped to turn 30. I'm not sure if it's a Contrary thing or just another aspect of my refusal to grow up, but I still relish becoming older. I giggle excitedly at the new lines on my face (love my first mouth-line), I count fractions of the year like little kids do, and I admire my first grey hairs so much, I'm hoping to keep my hair dyed or supershort or both until there's enough of them to really show. Will strangers stop talking to me like a teenager, then? I hope so!
I even insist on candles in my birthday cake for my actual year, plus one to grow on. It's lovely to bathe in that glow that's brighter every year, and blowing them all out in one breath is tricky!
Anyway, 2005. I was feeling so good about myself, and I'd never ever done something big for my birthday. But, 30! The big 3-0! Hell yeah, why not?
So I booked a flight to New Orleans for late December.
Yeah, you know how this ends.
Katrina killed, maimed, destroyed, displaced so many.
And she also washed out my birthday-vacation. Bitch.
Well, really, Southwest did. When the airport shut down, they cancelled all flights to New Orleans, without notifying the passengers. Bitch.
When I called in Octoberish to check that everything was still good, the surprised customer service person said, "Oh yeah, they're admitting flights there again." Wat. A few more keystrokes and she confirmed that all flights to New Orleans were totally booked for late December, but ummm, I get credit for the lost trip!
There wasn't anywhere else I wanted to turn 30. I used half the credit on a combo LARP event/short hangout in Baltimore, and let the other half expire. I had another quiet birthday with my Coyote.
I've had almost nothing but quiet birthdays since. The past three have been exceptions, just as I wanted them to be. "I need three years to ramp up to all the awesome that 40 will be!", I said in 2012. I've been saving money, but I still have no idea what I want to do. I don't know why I'm stressing over it.
I know I won't get to go to DisneyWorld like one age-mate just did. I'd need double my saved money, at least.
I know I won't have a big party like another age-mate just did. No space, and that time of year, ugh. Everyone's got better things to do. Delaying a week or two puts it in the depths of winter, where the snow and ice and freezing cold will keep most people home. I don't get out enough to have a throng of friends anymore, if I ever did.
I fear that once I start spending my money, it'll vanish in an eyeblink. And I've got a 20th(!!!) anniversary with Coyote and 2nd with Tiger and Christmas all before then.
My best guess is that I'll squeeze in a nice restaurant meal or two with the boys and get new chairs for the living room. But let me dream.
There's practical things I long for: a men's electric razor might be able to grant me the truly bald head that I can't risk trying with razors, because of my two prominent bumps. (Unicorn horns-to-be, I say, though it's fine if they want to become antlers instead.) There are a lot of options on the market now for undergarments to make skirts and dresses comfortable for those of us with fleshier thighs, and my old solutions are few and dying. There's a lot of new vinyl of old albums- how fucking awesome would it be to listen to some of the best 311 albums with those delicious pops and cracks?
Or a gym membership! I'm just coming into when that would be so awesome to have, and there's a nearby gym with a great deal: only $20/month, but you have to put up a fantastic sum to start. Yeah, $250ish makes me gasp and wonder how anyone can ever save that much scratch, these days. *sighs* That's definitely a really great gift to myself, but there's a fear that unless I can addict Tiger or Coyote into being my gym-buddy (I can take one of them in, free, every single visit!), I'll hardly use it during hibernation.
Travel. It makes me tear up just to write that word. I haven't seen post-Katrina New Orleans, but I'd love to. I've got a hardcore longing to be in the pine woods of Maine. Even at a fucking rest stop.
The Society. Provincetown. Block Island.
I don't even know when I'm crossing state lines next, and living in the smallest state, that's pathetic. I could walk to Seekonk, or bike it if I was in shape.
Club Choice.
Pub Night.
A movie in a theatre?
Maybe for my fiftieth. :(