I have exactly 12 hours left to be 23
It's been kind of weird these last few days. I keep forgetting my birthday is coming up.
August 21st has always been really special to me. Not the date (though of course it means something to me obviously) but rather the actually number and word. I always had a thing against odd numbers as a kid (damn ocd) and adored even numbers (probably the Libra in me). But somehow 21 was different then all the odd numbers. Special. Good things happen on 21. Funny enough it's not odd to have bad things happen on 12 though that hasn't happened in awhile. 21 has just somehow become my number. It's as much me as my name is. Or at least my middle name if nothing else. I always wondered if it was the same for others and their birthdate. I'm too shy to ask people though because people thought I was weird when I told them numbers had personality (except Liz... she understood).
And August just always seems to be the start for me. The beginning. School started in August. My birthday of course. Friends and Family have always seemed to have August birthdays or events. Grand things would happen in August. August is almost like my beginning rather than January. August is my January. I have an odd perception of things.
This year has been a bit different. usually I have a mix bag of feelings when August 21st comes around. I try not to think about it, just let it flow like every other day... every other New Year. Mentally I prepare myself for all the things I want to do with this year. But I don't think of it as the day I become one year older. In my mind I'm still a strange balance of 4 and 40. Then inevitably someone talks about doing something for my birthday and, despite my best efforts, I get excited about it. I anticipate it. And the day comes and plans fall through (sometimes for understandable reasons, sometimes not) and, despite myself, I get disappointed. I still remember my 21st birthday. I must have had everyone in my phone book promising to come out with me. Four people showed up, two of them grudgingly. Kyle only went because of Jeff and Jeff wasn't going to go unless Kyle went. I cried in front of the globe because I was so sure the night would be special (and it kind of was eventually. I danced with my unborn nephew lol!) I remember someone called me to say happy birthday, realized what a miserable day I was having and offered to meet me in New Orleans. God I thought about that offer so hard. I should have taken it. Katrina hit the next weekend and I missed my chance of seeing it in its prime. It's taught me to be more adventureous. And I would have never gotten my sun tattoo or had Joy's awesome surprise party for me at Boomerz or had Phil wish me a happy birthday from stage. That was pretty cool.
Still... I wonder if I wouldn't have chosen the red pill instead of the blue pill if given the choice again.
But this year... this year things have been working out nicely. I'm actually going to have MY day. That's the oddest thing... it's MY day. I've always shared this day with my twin or with Eli who's a day older, or with Monika who's birthday is a bit before mine... and I'm always ok with it because, well since we started actually celebrating birthdays (Grew up Gehovia Witness... and probably still spell it wrong) I've always shared it. It's a shared thing now. I don't have MY birthday. We have OUR birthday. Great for the Libra, horrible for the Leo.
Tomorrow I'm going to dinner with a nice handful of friends (anyone is invited if you don't mind paying like $30 bucks a person. Maggiano's is well worth the money). People are going to go out of their way to eat with me simply because I was born. Not us... Me. It's very strange. Almost alien. I almost feel bad. I don't like people going out of their way or inconvienancing themselves for me. But it's brightened my week knowing there's a nice handful of people willing to do that for me. I love my friends. You all are amazing. I couldn't ask for more.
and i'm getting stuff chucked at me and my dog is freaking out and it's dinner time so I'll finish up this thought later.
August 21st has always been really special to me. Not the date (though of course it means something to me obviously) but rather the actually number and word. I always had a thing against odd numbers as a kid (damn ocd) and adored even numbers (probably the Libra in me). But somehow 21 was different then all the odd numbers. Special. Good things happen on 21. Funny enough it's not odd to have bad things happen on 12 though that hasn't happened in awhile. 21 has just somehow become my number. It's as much me as my name is. Or at least my middle name if nothing else. I always wondered if it was the same for others and their birthdate. I'm too shy to ask people though because people thought I was weird when I told them numbers had personality (except Liz... she understood).
And August just always seems to be the start for me. The beginning. School started in August. My birthday of course. Friends and Family have always seemed to have August birthdays or events. Grand things would happen in August. August is almost like my beginning rather than January. August is my January. I have an odd perception of things.
This year has been a bit different. usually I have a mix bag of feelings when August 21st comes around. I try not to think about it, just let it flow like every other day... every other New Year. Mentally I prepare myself for all the things I want to do with this year. But I don't think of it as the day I become one year older. In my mind I'm still a strange balance of 4 and 40. Then inevitably someone talks about doing something for my birthday and, despite my best efforts, I get excited about it. I anticipate it. And the day comes and plans fall through (sometimes for understandable reasons, sometimes not) and, despite myself, I get disappointed. I still remember my 21st birthday. I must have had everyone in my phone book promising to come out with me. Four people showed up, two of them grudgingly. Kyle only went because of Jeff and Jeff wasn't going to go unless Kyle went. I cried in front of the globe because I was so sure the night would be special (and it kind of was eventually. I danced with my unborn nephew lol!) I remember someone called me to say happy birthday, realized what a miserable day I was having and offered to meet me in New Orleans. God I thought about that offer so hard. I should have taken it. Katrina hit the next weekend and I missed my chance of seeing it in its prime. It's taught me to be more adventureous. And I would have never gotten my sun tattoo or had Joy's awesome surprise party for me at Boomerz or had Phil wish me a happy birthday from stage. That was pretty cool.
Still... I wonder if I wouldn't have chosen the red pill instead of the blue pill if given the choice again.
But this year... this year things have been working out nicely. I'm actually going to have MY day. That's the oddest thing... it's MY day. I've always shared this day with my twin or with Eli who's a day older, or with Monika who's birthday is a bit before mine... and I'm always ok with it because, well since we started actually celebrating birthdays (Grew up Gehovia Witness... and probably still spell it wrong) I've always shared it. It's a shared thing now. I don't have MY birthday. We have OUR birthday. Great for the Libra, horrible for the Leo.
Tomorrow I'm going to dinner with a nice handful of friends (anyone is invited if you don't mind paying like $30 bucks a person. Maggiano's is well worth the money). People are going to go out of their way to eat with me simply because I was born. Not us... Me. It's very strange. Almost alien. I almost feel bad. I don't like people going out of their way or inconvienancing themselves for me. But it's brightened my week knowing there's a nice handful of people willing to do that for me. I love my friends. You all are amazing. I couldn't ask for more.
and i'm getting stuff chucked at me and my dog is freaking out and it's dinner time so I'll finish up this thought later.