Life will make you nuts. Seriously. If you think about it, your interactions with people on a daily basis could in fact drive you crazy if you allow their ways to seep into your psyche.
Anyway, hi. It's been a while. I'm trying to get better with the blog stuff. But I am a work in progress. I have a big birthday coming up soon, and I am not excited about it. Not even a little. Actually, I wish I could just skip over that day all together. I'm not one of those people that are in love with their birthday. I know people who are, and they are some of the most annoying people on the planet. I won't name names, because they read my blog, but I have made it clear to them that their countdowns, gift hints, texts, emails, phone calls, and all the other annoying shit they do is judged. Heavily and harshly. Don't get me wrong, I know its coming, I'd just be cool if it didn't. Why, you ask? Several reasons.
1) I was born on Good Friday. Which means my birthday is around Easter. There have been years where my birthday has actually been on Easter Sunday. Who can compete with a man rising from the dead? Especially a man named Jesus!
2) I'm old. Just not old enough to have a family celebration for my birthday. I'm in those middle aged years where lives are far too busy to celebrate birthdays. That shit gets old around 30 until around 70. Then its more of a "Damn, this bitch is still alive? Lets buy her a cake!" type celebration.
3) I'm single. Yeah, yeah. Allladis *bodyrolls* is single. Last birthday I had with a S/O, I told him I wanted to go to my favorite restaurant. He proceeded to tell me that he hated that place, so we ended up at Joe's Crab Shack. I wore a fucking plastic bib that said "I got crabs" on my birthday. I was not amused.
4) I have a kid about to go off to college. I have other things I need to be spending my money on. Shoot.
5) My mom was big on birthdays. This will be my 15th without her watching me wear a turtleneck and reenact my birth and making me spaghetti and chicken wings. No, this is not me asking for someone to make me spaghetti and chicken wings for my birthday. But if I get drunk enough, I could do that birth thing. It's pretty funny.
I guess My point is this: Regardless of the birthday, I'm finally learning how to celebrate life. Every day is my birthday. There's nothing special about that one particular day. I wake up every day with a song in my spirit, a smile on my face, and a dog at my feet. Someone has to take him out. May as well be me.