it's my birthday. by my standards, i still have 11ish more hours to celebrate since i was an afternoon baby. i'm not going to blog about what i did (nothing) or what i got (tickets to david sedaris from N). instead i am going to fill you in on why this is the awfulest of awful days every year
i warn you now that this will be petty, angsty whining. if you'd rather not get wrapped up in the drama, feel free to swing by later when i post some silly picture, mood inducing video or gushing about my boy...
i love birthdays for the exact reason i hate mine. it is the best, most obvious day to tell someone that they matter to you. i make it a point to tell my friends, regardless of how close we are, happy birthday every year. to me, birthdays are a celebration of life. i'm not just saying happy birthday; it's an all encompassing "i'm glad you exist and are a part of my life". which is why i get so upset when the people who matter most to me forgot this one little day. there are seven people i have to hear from (two absolutely no delay better contact me) on my birthday or the day is completely ruined
i make a huge fuss leading up to my birthday, counting down the minutes until it's official. i was born at 137 in the afternoon so i also do a countdown throughout the day. somehow i always end up missing the exact moment, but i never stop trying... the countdown is secretly also a trick to ensure that i'm not forgotten. i'm obnoxious about it, turning into a five year old who can think only of telling everyone who crosses my path that i'm fucking special
i do not willingly let anyone sing to me; i cannot stand to hear that song directed at me on the actual day. if it's someone else, i will join, but under no circumstances do i want someone to sing to me. one year in college, my friends attempted to sing to me at every meal. death stares put an end to that right quick.
my issues stem, as many issues do, from my family. they completely forgot my 13th birthday. the first person to wish me a happy birthday was my grade school best friend, when i got to school that day. not a single person in my family said a word to me. 13 is supposed to be a big deal, and they all forgot. when i got home, i was livid. "i told all my friends it was your birthday" well that's awesome, little brother. just fucking awesome... i've never really recovered from that year
13 years later, im right back in that exact place. i happen to share a birthday with a pretty awesome (now) five year old, the son of my sister's cheer friend. his birthday party was today, and the cheer family was invited. mom and i talked about it earlier in the week, but she didn't remember what time it was at. as her memory is shit, she didn't remember to find out the time and tell me later so that i could coordinate my day (keep in mind i was planning to get a tattoo this morning... didn't happen, but that's another story). i call her today to find out; no answer. an hour later i call again; no answer. i text her to send me the time. 10 min later my sister calls from her phone; mom left it at the house when they went for pedicures. fantastic. party's from 2-5. it's 1230, i haven't showered and they're 35 min from the new apartment. mom gets on the phone to discuss the situation, and i quickly get testy. i could really care less about the time and the fact she always forgets her cell at home. we were on the phone for 30 minutes, and not once did she say anything about my fucking birthday. i finally got off with her, and proceeded to waste an hourish. finally, jumped in the shower, threw on clothes and drove fucking 80 because i promised i'd be at the house by 3 (party was 10 min from the parents')
S and i drove separately because we always do. plus the parents were hungry so they left before i got to the house. get to the party, say hi to everyone and grab food. mom doesnt even say hi to me when we get there. a few minutes later, she's sitting at the table next to me. "don't you have something to say to me?" "what?" i just stared at her "what?!" *crazy mom face* "you have nothing to say to me?" "what, michelle" "what's today? ...aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?" "it's tomorrow" "no it's not" "well, we're celebrating tomorrow..." "so? it's still today" "sorry. happy birthday" "thanks"
pulling fucking teeth. from my own goddamn mother... as soon as my mother said something, the old man came over to hug me and wish me a happy birthday. i never expect him to remember so i dont really give a shit. he's not remembered my birthday on my birthday on his own since i was like seven... later in the day, it came up again resulting in tears. S and i left immediately after finishing our cake because i was fucking done and she had homework
as i told InSlut, every year i feel like the unwanted child. all i ever want is to not be made to feel like i'm insignificant, like i'm a problem to be ignored, on the day that i graced her life. she goes on about "yea. i was there... my gift was birthing you..." yet, saying two words in a 24 hour span is too fucking hard for her to do. yea i joke about birthday week, birthday month, "clock starts in the afternoon", but really, all i want is my mother to call me in the morning and tell me happy birthday. it's all i ever want. to know that 26 years later, she's still happy with having me