I learned a few things on my birthday this year. Things that I hadn't previously realized, or maybe admitted, about myself. I like to feel special on my birthday. Yes, it's a small thing, and yes, it makes me sound girly - something I try vehemently to avoid if at all possible - but it's the truth. I want to be told "happy birthday" by the people I care about. I want to be taken care of and treated. I want, if only for one day, to have someone else make all the plans. There's no way to express these feeling without coming across as selfish, but those of you who know me know better, and those of you who know some of my past birthday experiences have all the more reason to back me up on this little revelation.
And now we're done with that.
So last night was great fun. My roommates gave me bourbon and cupcakes. What's not to love in that situation? I also got a bottle of bubbly and an incredibly tasty cake, the remainder of which will likely sustain me for the next week considering my lack of funds and lack of food. We ate amazing Cuban food, complete with a birthday serenade and a single serving of flan. Let it be forever noted that Jules does not like flan. We went bowling, drank a few beers and retired fairly early. I'll admit that it was hard not being with the people closest to my heart on my birthday, but I can't complain.I turned 27 in California. I'm sorry, but that's pretty freakin' cool if you ask me. A native Angeleno recently told me that people new to L.A. are on a three-phase schedule. Year one is called "Clueless." Year two is called "She's Out of Control." Year three is called "Over It" (which must be said in a very overtly homosexual sort of way).
So I guess what I'm saying is we're just getting things started out here. Stay tuned for 28. It's bound to be blog-worthy.
P.S. Many, many glorious thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes my way. They were appreciated more than you'll ever understand.
