leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Surviving my birthday and being 30 Well my birthday pretty much sucked. Which didn't exactly surprise me. I seem to generally have bad luck where birthdays are concerned. It's not me. I swear. I don't wanna be the misery chick. It just sorta happens. It began Monday night when my mother made me go pick up the cake she had baked a day early (for no apparent reason). I had worked all day then spent all evening at the hospital with Sam who was having her baby. (That part was very cool. I've never seen a baby born before.) So anyway, I was driving home from the hospital a little after 10pm when my mother called to see if I was gonna get my cake. Why not, thought me, and drove to my folks house. I retrieved the cake, thanked her, and drove home; but refused to touch it until midnight out of superstition. I was standing in the kitchen watching the clock, and at midnight I lit my 3 candles, sang happy birthday to myself, made my wish and blew. One went out. The other two sorta just leaned forward. Damnit. Fine. Relit them out of pure stubbornness and did it again. (This time from a different angle.) They went out, but most of me is convinced I'm not getting my wish. (Plus I decided singing happy birthday to oneself in an empty kitchen is a tad depressing and probably a bad idea.) Then the morning. Slept late out of exhaustion. Couldn't find my shoe. Couldn't get my hair to come out right. Etc, etc. Got to work. Nobody here remembered my birthday (until the end of the day.) And I was informed I had an important report due by 5 that nobody told me about though they had a month's notice. So not only did I not get to go home a little early like I wanted, I didn't get a lunch and worked 20 minutes late in order to send the report out. I guess the whole 30 thing or homones or something got to me and all day long I kept bursting into tears. I was interviewing an applicant, and had to keep excusing myself because tears would begin to run down my cheeks. He was Egyptian and endlessly polite and kept trying to excuse himself from my office which I protested, which resulted in him doing this little stand-up, half-turn, sit back down, stand-up, half-turn dance while blushing profusely. Poor darling. I apologized repeatedly and tried to assure him that I wasn't insane just having a bad day. Though I'm honestly unsure if I was convincing him or myself. The crying all day resulted in a horrible headache and that sedated feeling. So basically by 5 my contacts felt like sand paper and I could barely drive. Saw Tony before I left, who like a well-trained boy (37 year-old men are still boys I assure you.) remembered, wished me a happy birthday, hugged me tightly, repeated the phrase we agreed upon, and pulled my pony tail. Mmmm. Okay. Day improving. Drove straight from work to the hospital to see Samantha and Hector and the baby. Ran into their friend Ozzy who offered to take me to dinner. It was sweet, but I couldn't have managed it. My head was still pounding, my eyes still scratchy, and I desperately wanted a long hot shower and a bed. I stayed a long while, held the baby, massaged Samantha's back, then drove home, took my shower, opened the card from my mom and dad, twirled the blue balloon she taped to it, ate some reheated macaroni and cheese and a slice of my birthday cake, watched a little tv (with difficulty as I still handn't removed my contacts) and went to sleep. Just a wonderful 24 hours. I'm planning on turning 30 every day, let me tell you. On a note of salvation: A drug company sent me flowers, a darling friend up north consoled me all day, and two darling angels sent me the most beautiful and most creative wishes I've ever received on a birthday. Something along the lines of me outshining whatever number of candles are on my cake (How do you know the perfect things to say Serena?) and wishing me hunky inked boys covered in cake (I will be your road-dog anytime Rain). If anything could have lifted my spirits it's that. I believe in the law of balance, so I've decided a horrible birthday means a great year. Screw you fate! :p 8:25 a.m. - January 14, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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