birthdays suck

It's been a long day, and I am feeling moody and excluded. It doesn't help that I am home alone, the heat oppressive, with woe-is-me jazz playing, and our fan making an irritating rattling noise as it oscillates. Martin is working graveyards at his new job at a local homeless shelter, so I won't be seeing him till after 8 a.m.



















I can empathize with this poor dead jelly fish I took a picture of. He was just floating along, all pretty and bright-blue, and then he dies a lonely death, washed up on the Oregon Coast. Well, not totally alone. There was thousands of his dead jellyfish buddies washed up along with him.

Am I really feeling that mopey that I can empathize with a dead jellyfish? Yes, yes I am. And I can hear his final farewell playing on CBC Radio.

Ha! Now I am being silly. But seriously, long day. Plus, tonight Street Church made it's usual loud appearance across the river. (I found a neighbourhood call to action taped to the apartment building door tonight - the 'hood is riled. They want Street Church to TURN IT DOWN.)

Now the Stampede fireworks have started and I am reminded that the blessed calm of Martin's village in Sweden will be a sweet haven for the last two weeks of July. The city is nice when you feel like it - when you want a little silence it can make you downright ornery.

Wow, I'm really a ray of sunshine. I think it's bedtime. How'd this all start? Oh yeah! Birthdays that suck. Well, I think I truly transitioned into adulthood. I admitted to myself, nay, recognized, that birthdays, beyond the age of 18, really do suck. I'll be honest, I looked forward to putting back a pint or two or six on my 18th birthday, and that anticipation was fulfilled, although not with good results. However, my point is that your birthday is way more important to you than it is to anyone else. And it never really fails: My birthday passes and I realize, man, that totally, undeniably sucked. (This is no reflection on certain persons by the name of Martin or Mom, by the way.) I think I was just a big kid, all like: Woohoo, my birthdays comin', I'm gonna have so much fun and everyone who loves me is going to make my day super awesome.

I guess I should be glad I have addressed my naivete, and now I can move on like the cynical soon-to-be-birthday person that I am. Maybe when the day comes I'll treat myself to a loaf of rye bread or something.

;-)