Monday, February 7, 2011

...of birthday cake!

hello february 7th.
tell me this isn't happening.

february 7th:
Oh. This IS happening.
You're 36 now. Say it aloud. Thirty-six. You can't keep spinning your tires. It isn't getting you anywhere. You have a 14-year-old daughter, you know. And now you have a 3-month-old daughter. Your star is sparkling a little less brightly now. All stars burn out. They have to make room for the brighter stars--the younger stars. But you're supposed to be content with less brilliance. You should be glowing with steadiness and knowledge. You shouldn't still be searching for the next universe to light up. And still single? You just packed your bags and left again. Next year, I expect the circles under your eyes to be darker, your heart to be harder, and your light to be dimmer.

And just to add to your misery for today, the universe is throwing in a snow storm with high-velocity winds. So when you decide to go out and celebrate, you'll feel more cold than you already are. That empty feeling? It's called loneliness and regret. It's from your lack of discipline and not talking to your sister yet. That sick feeling? It's called reality and consequence. It's from finally looking at yourself in the mirror and the right hook you threw. Happy birthday! It's your life. I am just here to remind you you're another year older.

i have made some considerably bad decisions this year. and i definitely have several new wrinkles. my skin does feel thin. i don't sleep when i should. i get depressed. but 36? that's it? that's the end? your version of one of my versions of 36 is trying to scare me. but i have another version ... maybe.

yes, i do have two daughters to love now. but that only adds more brilliance to my life. it's amazing. i woke up to both of their sweet faces today. i braved your stupid storm and the three of us did celebrate. we got pedicures and dinner and ate ridiculously large pieces of chocolate cake. and we had the blessing of coming home to our 84-year-old grandma. her star has been shining brightly for over 84 years. how much longer will i get to watch my three-month-old baby laugh with her great-grandma? one woman old with deep wrinkles, lost stories, and lonely, dancing eyes; one so remarkably young that she doesn't know sadness nor has her skin felt sunshine yet. how extraordinary to witness both of their lights shining together.

so while i may have dark circles under my eyes and my heart may have distending cracks, don't count me out. it hasn't been easy lately. i will never have the right answers. but my heart has never been this full. maybe it's breaking because it's growing. maybe i needed a reminder to work on my relationship with my sister. yes, of course i need to make better decisions. and i know that i've brought this on myself. i'll do better. i'll take these gentle reminders, birthday. but i am not giving up.

february 7th:
Humph. That cake is going to go straight to your ass.


  1. It's eerie sometimes. I have been thinking all this week that my flame has gone out. Literally, I've been imaging that I am a candle and the wind of life just blew my shit out and then you wrote this. I have been wallowing in self-pity and hate about all the shit in my life that is a disappointment, which is fucking everything and everyone right now. I've been drowning in blogs about being single and in your 30's and the only decent thing I've read (besides this now) is that 32 is your sexual peak. Hooray for that.

    I'm glad you went out with your girls.
    I think that picture is a classic.
    Happy Birthday, my blogger BFF!!!!

  2. ahhh, karmella...
    i started working this week, which meant an initial writer's block and the decision to read back through our blogs. i mean, it's been a damn long time! we've been through it! and we are both VERY funny. i read 2009 until my eyes were stinging and marveled at the stories i had forgotten. it made me sad. we both seemed a little more free and hopeful. but here is the thing ... ah snap. i am taking this offline. i'll send you an email.


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