Monday, April 26, 2004
wah friggin' wah...
So. This is what 38 feels like? Huh. No matter what CuteNerdBoy says, it doesn't feel much different than 37. My limbs are, thus far, all still attached to my body; I haven't lost or gained an extraordinary amount of body hair; and it wasn't impossible to get out of bed in the morning. At least, not moreso than usual.
I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. I tend to get very sensitive around my birthday and I don't know why. Well, maybe I do, just a little bit. See, I actually like to receive a lot of attention (hence my very occasional turn as actress), but I tend to feel as if I'm being pathetic and needy if I demand it. So I don't ask for the attention I want, which means I don't get the attention I love, and so I get pouty. And believe me, as yesterday wore on, I got very pouty. Just ask poor Boychik.
I tried to keep it in check, but when we couldn't think of anywhere to go that was very cheap (or free - we're both broke right now) that hadn't already occurred by the time I got to his place, then I felt as if everything was conspiring against me. Even though I knew that most Sunday events happen during the day and it was just the luck of the draw that my birthday was on a Sunday this year. We ended up just having dinner at a coffee house near my place - one which frequently hosts BookCrossing meetings - and then he took me home.
Accidentally breaking the cup which held my sage stick yesterday evening certainly didn't help my frame of mind, especially since I tend to be a bit on the superstitious side. Nor did the occasional "close to tears" feeling that swept over me.
So yeah, while my birthday weekend actually didn't suck, sometimes it felt like did, at least a little bit. I mean, I saw William Gibson and Glen David Gold (he's got a beard these days *swoon*) and David Rosengarten (he's been one of my favorite Food TV chefs for years - too bad he's not on there often these days). And dinner and a cool, perfect card from Sarriah, not to mention the e-mails and voicemail messages I've gotten. Maybe there are a few things I would have like to have been treated to, but it's certainly not as if no one took notice of my birthday.
Wait, let me look at the calendar. Why look at that! I do believe it's the week before, ahem, that time of the month. The Mighty PMS strikes again, laughing and crying and towering over all who would dare to think about suggesting I get some perspective. Silly mortals!! And I'm sure Mercury in retrograde isn't helping matters one whit. I can't wait until it goes direct on May 1st (the day of my birthday party - yay!).
(Yes, my dear skeptical readers, I do follow those silly lil' planets. See my above comment re: being a bit on the superstitious side. It's weird, considering that I have a very strong logical side that insists on facts and empirical evidence. *shrug*)
*pout* And I never did get that birthday sex I was hoping for. Though belated birthday sex would certainly be more than acceptable.
I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. I tend to get very sensitive around my birthday and I don't know why. Well, maybe I do, just a little bit. See, I actually like to receive a lot of attention (hence my very occasional turn as actress), but I tend to feel as if I'm being pathetic and needy if I demand it. So I don't ask for the attention I want, which means I don't get the attention I love, and so I get pouty. And believe me, as yesterday wore on, I got very pouty. Just ask poor Boychik.
I tried to keep it in check, but when we couldn't think of anywhere to go that was very cheap (or free - we're both broke right now) that hadn't already occurred by the time I got to his place, then I felt as if everything was conspiring against me. Even though I knew that most Sunday events happen during the day and it was just the luck of the draw that my birthday was on a Sunday this year. We ended up just having dinner at a coffee house near my place - one which frequently hosts BookCrossing meetings - and then he took me home.
Accidentally breaking the cup which held my sage stick yesterday evening certainly didn't help my frame of mind, especially since I tend to be a bit on the superstitious side. Nor did the occasional "close to tears" feeling that swept over me.
So yeah, while my birthday weekend actually didn't suck, sometimes it felt like did, at least a little bit. I mean, I saw William Gibson and Glen David Gold (he's got a beard these days *swoon*) and David Rosengarten (he's been one of my favorite Food TV chefs for years - too bad he's not on there often these days). And dinner and a cool, perfect card from Sarriah, not to mention the e-mails and voicemail messages I've gotten. Maybe there are a few things I would have like to have been treated to, but it's certainly not as if no one took notice of my birthday.
Wait, let me look at the calendar. Why look at that! I do believe it's the week before, ahem, that time of the month. The Mighty PMS strikes again, laughing and crying and towering over all who would dare to think about suggesting I get some perspective. Silly mortals!! And I'm sure Mercury in retrograde isn't helping matters one whit. I can't wait until it goes direct on May 1st (the day of my birthday party - yay!).
(Yes, my dear skeptical readers, I do follow those silly lil' planets. See my above comment re: being a bit on the superstitious side. It's weird, considering that I have a very strong logical side that insists on facts and empirical evidence. *shrug*)
*pout* And I never did get that birthday sex I was hoping for. Though belated birthday sex would certainly be more than acceptable.
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