I don’t like to make much of a fuss about my birthday, but secretly, deep down I’m dying for everyone around me to make a huge deal about it. I blame my childhood. I had the best birthday parties, always with a theme (Sock Hop, Hawaiian, Spice Girls…) and my best friends & family.
I can’t wait to have that again… fun, silly themed parties with a group of my closest friends and family. This sounds horrible, but it’s 100% true (and you know you secretly feel the same way) I want to be celebrated. I want to live a life where people are happy that I’m alive and in their life.
This birthday doesn’t really count for me. Having just started a new job, I couldn’t really take the day off and when I went in, no one knew that it was my birthday. I received a handful of happy birthday voicemails while I was at work and later that night I had dinner and ice cream with my aunt and cousins which was really nice. Mostly though, this birthday made me feel sad. Because I didn’t feel celebrated. Most people, even my closest friends, forgot. I didn’t feel like I mattered much in anyone’s life. I know that sounds whiny, bratty, self absorbed, whatever, but it’s how I felt. I love this line in You’ve Got Mail, and I feel like it sums up my outlook on Tuesday pretty perfectly:
Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life – well, valuable, but small – and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around?
There was one day this week that was particularly hard for me. Nothing majorly bad happened, but I was tired, hot, sore, hungry and sad-feeling on my way home. I wished in that moment that I was going home to someone who was cooking dinner, who would listen to me talk about my bad day, who would give me a hug. I know that I AM brave. I take care of myself everyday. I do everything alone. I push myself outside of my comfort zone constantly. Sometimes though, I pine for the feeling of someone taking care of me. Someone who appreciates that I do work so hard. Anyway, I made it home, cooked dinner for myself and I watched RocknRolla, a movie I had wanted to see for years… so not a terrible way to end a bad day!
My week was filled with so many beautiful things, really!
I saw my dream car on a random walk through my neighborhood. The perfect model, year and color. (Ford Mustang, ’66, burgundy) Hopefully the owner’s didn’t see my ogling it for several lingering minutes.
Morning walks into work are ridiculous. I literally work THIS CLOSE to Century Link stadium. The atmosphere on game days is so fun and lively and contagious. Surprising absolutely no one, I wore an entirely yellow outfit on my actual birthday and my family dressed up for dinner! Andrew, who I could never convince to wear normal clothes (ie: no basketball shorts or sweatshirts) showed up wearing two clashing plaids and neon orange socks. It was really the thought that counted! They’re the cutest, nicest, funniest, sweetest people. I’m so lucky to have them. Thinking back to last June, I remember going bonkers because the weather was God-awful rain every day. This year though, the entire week was beautiful and sunny and warm but not hot. Perfect.
June is daisy season. Lots and lots of daisies are in my house right now. I couldn’t be happier about that. Calm, peaceful, quiet moments filled my week and I allowed myself to just lounge around at home with nothing to do and no place that I needed to be.