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Grumpy birthday

I'm thinking it's probably not so unusual to have a grumpy birthday. I mean it's not like the heavens part and beams shine down just for that "special day". Growing up, birthdays were a big deal. Breakfast in bed, always a cake, sometimes a party, always presents and an unflattering picture of you in bed opening them the day of the big event. I've steadily drifted from this super dazzling extravaganza day expectation since high school. Things seemed less magical as birthdays happened out of town or without my family. I drummed up the courage to call I guy I liked to see if he'd want to do something simple like get some ice cream on my 16th birthday (after my best friend bailed because he had a date) and the guy in question said, "No, I'd rather not." Maybe I'm squishy, but that was kind of devastating.

I've had ups and downs with birthdays ever since, but mostly downs. Not disaster-story level downs, but crying, getting drunk ones nonetheless. Actually the best birthdays in memory have been with the lovely x_h00ine. My 21st was spent dry as a bone in a flood plain for a bit of irony.

Yesterday was a bit of a downer. Not for any particular reason. Probably mostly because it was a Sunday and that meant I'd have to return to work the next day. This reason's likelihood was confirmed by anxiety dreams all night. The play is starting, the actors are assembling, I only have 3 lines in the entire production, but I don't know what they are or when they are and I'm a mess because I'm about to bring down an otherwise amazing show through my lack of planning. I can't find the play and keep leafing through my pocket drug book looking for my lines as we head out to the stage ... ugh.


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 8th, 2006 04:02 am (UTC)
Well, Happy Birthday anyway!
(Deleted comment)
Aug. 8th, 2006 01:50 pm (UTC)
The work theme is playing out after another set of anxiety dreams. This time trying to accomplish a pap smear in a residency clinic that had converted an old building into exam rooms. I was in a converted handicapped bathroom stall. Except none of the gyn equipment was available because they'd used that particular "exam room" to run treadmill stress tests. I kept having to run in and out of the room and beg random residents that I didn't know for supplies one piece at a time.
(Deleted comment)
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )



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