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My birthday is rapidly approaching,
Apr. 7th, 2007 06:34 pmand I... don't care?
I mean, it's not like I'm dreading it all, I'm so old! And lookit all the wrinkles on my decrepit, aging, 24-year-old body! Ack! *cough* *hack*
Ahem.
It's more like I didn't entirely... notice it?
I mean, I decided to take off that day (and the day before it). And I decided that one of those days off I would go into Philly and see the King Tut exhibit (I do need to figure out the logistics of that in a fashion that is not "scramble at the last minute and wind up not going"). But I'm not thinking of it as a Birthday Trip, more like the Remember When I Was Obsessed With Dead People (Oh Yeah, I Still Am) Nostalgia Tour.
It's just not on my radar anymore. For that matter, most celebratey things aren't. I suppose I've never been particularly gung-ho about such things-- certainly not as into the holiday spirit as certain other people who plan their wardrobes around it. But I seem to recall actually liking Christmas and Easter and my Birthday. Thanksgiving seems to be the only one I perk up about nowadays, which I guess is at least partly due to the fact that as I've grown up I've discovered that I hate Jesus. Well, I don't hate him, but I don't think he existed so celebrating his birth and death and zombification and such seems sorta yucky. And I know it's all ripped off of Pagan holidays, anyway, but that just makes me bitter. It's hard to enjoy seasonal rituals when they've got Jesus germs all over them.
But that's not even what I'm talking about. I'm talking about my birthday that I haven't even started counting down 'til. I haven't made a birthday list, I haven't come up with a dinner for mom to make, or a dessert for myself to make.
It's just so eh.
And the fact that I feel like I ought to be excited and just can't seem to muster up some enthusiasm about it makes me feel worse.
Well, no more! It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to! No.. wait.. that'd only be applicable if I were having a party, and besides the point is that I don't want to be all cry-y and depressed about it, 'cause it's my birthday. And I'm not an old fogey, and even if I were that wouldn't be something to be upset about. I am going to go to the Franklin Institute and I am going to have fun, and I will rock out to "Six Feet Under" by No Doubt, and it's a Thursday, so if nothing else, there's gonna be a new Supernatural with pretty boys to look at. Plus, having the day off is rarely objectionable. So there.
I mean, it's not like I'm dreading it all, I'm so old! And lookit all the wrinkles on my decrepit, aging, 24-year-old body! Ack! *cough* *hack*
Ahem.
It's more like I didn't entirely... notice it?
I mean, I decided to take off that day (and the day before it). And I decided that one of those days off I would go into Philly and see the King Tut exhibit (I do need to figure out the logistics of that in a fashion that is not "scramble at the last minute and wind up not going"). But I'm not thinking of it as a Birthday Trip, more like the Remember When I Was Obsessed With Dead People (Oh Yeah, I Still Am) Nostalgia Tour.
It's just not on my radar anymore. For that matter, most celebratey things aren't. I suppose I've never been particularly gung-ho about such things-- certainly not as into the holiday spirit as certain other people who plan their wardrobes around it. But I seem to recall actually liking Christmas and Easter and my Birthday. Thanksgiving seems to be the only one I perk up about nowadays, which I guess is at least partly due to the fact that as I've grown up I've discovered that I hate Jesus. Well, I don't hate him, but I don't think he existed so celebrating his birth and death and zombification and such seems sorta yucky. And I know it's all ripped off of Pagan holidays, anyway, but that just makes me bitter. It's hard to enjoy seasonal rituals when they've got Jesus germs all over them.
But that's not even what I'm talking about. I'm talking about my birthday that I haven't even started counting down 'til. I haven't made a birthday list, I haven't come up with a dinner for mom to make, or a dessert for myself to make.
It's just so eh.
And the fact that I feel like I ought to be excited and just can't seem to muster up some enthusiasm about it makes me feel worse.
Well, no more! It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to! No.. wait.. that'd only be applicable if I were having a party, and besides the point is that I don't want to be all cry-y and depressed about it, 'cause it's my birthday. And I'm not an old fogey, and even if I were that wouldn't be something to be upset about. I am going to go to the Franklin Institute and I am going to have fun, and I will rock out to "Six Feet Under" by No Doubt, and it's a Thursday, so if nothing else, there's gonna be a new Supernatural with pretty boys to look at. Plus, having the day off is rarely objectionable. So there.
