My birthday's on Wednesday. Don't remind me, please. It's supposed to be a joyous occasion, but with each passing year without me being truly happy, I just see it more and more as another year step closer to death.
Today, after watching a little college basketball and checking my car, I made a point of walking to the coffeeshop and dink around on my laptop (and re-file my previous blog post). I needed the exercise, but it was more just avoiding my parents, particularly My Father, when they come home. Seems to me the biggest blowups happen just after they return. I just wanted to make sure I came back in time for Selection Sunday.
I come home not to yelling and angry accusations, thank Buddha. What I did come back to are the big flat plates we use for "special" dinners. Wish I had known beforehand that they were celebrating my birthday today. Guess I could've assumed they were going to do that next weekend, but in reality, my parents doing something special for my birthday was something that didn't cross my mind at all.
Mother toasted me and wished me to find a good job, to which My Father started giggling. Couple snide comments from me and that was it. Steak was good, salad as good as it's ever been, bread wonderful, and we all horked down the champagne quicker than we ever have before.
Mother told me we could have cake afterwards; just tell us, she said, and we'll toast your birthday. I was too full to do it right afterward, and in the back of my mind I didn't think we could do it later in the evening. After watchng The Amazing Race and the first hour of Celebrity Apprentice, I could feel myself losing consciousness. At around 9, I shut off the TV and closed my eyes.
And I woke up at 11:12. Caught the middle of Seinfeld, flossed my teeth, heard rumblings in the master bed downstairs then went downstairs to make absolutely sure they were asleep, otherwise I guess we can have cake. Father called out from the other side of the door that we can do it tomorrow. Maybe; I really, really want to go to the gym because I paid for a month's worth of visits the day I came back from STL and saw you fucked with my room, and the next visit will be the one that'll match what I usually pay for a one-time pass. Since I'll be busy the next few weeks, if I don't make it tomorrow, I essentially will be wasting money for visits to exercise I didn't take.
I feel kind of guilty that I was unenthused for the celebration over my birthday. I want to say I was tired, or that My Father's being an asshole, or that I'm still mad about him "cleaning" my room. But maybe I'm truly depressed that I'll be 34 on Wednesday and that I'm still just a kid, except that I'm really not.
And to think I should be happy that March Madness is about to begin.
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