Sunday, Apr. 07, 2002 / 6:29 p.m.

~How I Spent It~

I read Moby's updates. I logged on to the message boards on his site and asked the people there what I should be doing for my birthday. I was told I should have sex, take drugs, drink alcohol, and see a movie, oh, and have some ice cream.

I felt useless, not even knowing how to entertain myself on my one big special day. Not even having an idea of something joyful to do, in which to partake. I had a bath. I threw in "several" of the lavendar bath "pearls" that came in the little bath kit thing D., the Supervisor at work, gave me. The instructions said to use "several", so I did, but they didn't smell like lavendar, but like some artificial fragrance, and they were really oily, so oily that I felt like I'd never get all that oil off my body once I dried off. I changed shirts twice. Today my skin feels soft and very smooth.

I called in an order to my favorite Thai restaurant, though I'm not sure I was in the mood for it, but I wasn't in the mood for anything, and that was my problem. I drove to pick it up, past Saturday drivers, people out driving with seemingly no purpose, no destination, and I got angry with them, yelled a lot, sort of like this, "Jesus Fucking Christ! What is your FUCKING problem?! Would it kill you to use your signal?! Are you going to turn or what?! Why do you look both ways when you have the fucking green light, you fucking idiot?!", stuff like that.

And the restaurant was packed, they were slammed, and I commented to the lovely hostess thusly, as I filled out my credit/debit card receipt, leaving a large tip even though I'd driven all that way to pick up takeout, because I always do that. And she talked of their new location, how I should visit it, they have a Sushi Bar too, and she will be there Wednesdays and Sundays if I'd like to see her again, and as I left I thought that was very strange.

I came home and ate the usual, Basil Rolls, Chicken Coconut Milk Soup, Nam Sod (which was particularly hot and peppery, and made me cough and blow my nose a lot, but in a good way) and Garlic Pepper Tofu, the leftovers of which I just finished. Now I have an entire serving of Ginger Beef leftover. And this is good. My stomach was very unhappy last night though, and I will never know exactly what made it so, was it the leftover carrot cake from work? The small slice of gouda? The Hardee's chicken sandwich from the day before? Or had the Thai worked its "magic" so quickly? It really didn't matter. I'm not the type to deny myself anything because of an unpleasant result......

Okay, that's not true at all. I don't really drink alcohol too much anymore, and certainly never to excess, for that very reason. I know the unpleasant result. This much I've learned. But food? It's hit or miss, now isn't it? Sometimes the ingredients are fresh, prepared by impeccably clean hands, other times, well, you never know, it's the chance you take, but as my hero Anthony Bourdain likes to say, "Your body is not a temple, it's an amusement park. Enjoy the ride!", and I do.

My favorite movie from when I was 8 years old was on, "Cat Ballou", so I watched a bit, then got back online, checked email, looking for something, anything, from my brother and sister-in-law. Nothing. Not one word. I checked the snail mail. Nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a Blue Mountain Card. No card, no email, no phone call. Nothing.

But I remember lying in bed, my mom's bed, and I don't know if she was with me or not, but I lay praying, praying as a child will do, to whatever is up there, to whoever listens to children, and this is bizarre and very silly, that when I die I could come back as Cat Ballou in that movie. I was 8 years old. Why did I feel so strongly? Yes, Jane Fonda was beautiful, perfectly beautiful, pre-Barbarella, pre-Bree in "Klute", she was radiant, and in the film she is wooed by three men, at least. They all fall in love with her, but she only loves one. And at 8 years old did I believe in reincarnation?

When I die I want to come back as....? What the hell was that?! But I remember it very clearly, wanting it more than anything. Even up to the end, when she is about to be hung in public for her crimes..... about to be.

And a movie called "100 Girls", I think. Filled with fast dialogue, monologues about the differences between the sexes, all espoused by a fix it man working in a college. A college student working as a fix it man. It was light, semi-entertaining, and there was a lot of female nudity. A comedy filled with breasts. It was interesting. The insight was there, the man/woman conundrums, it was all very wise and true. Sort of shocking. What men think of women. Very interesting, really.

Falling asleep on the sofa, turning the TV to "Big Heat", or "The Big Heat", meaning to watch it, but knowing I'd rather sleep. And waking early, or very late, 4:30 or 3:30, depending on how long you hold on to that idea, "But really it's only 3:30 if we hadn't set the clocks ahead". "There's Someone Sleeping in My Bed", with Dean Martin as an actor playing a sympathetic doctor on some TV drama, in his real life about to be married to the beautiful 1963 era Elizabeth Montgomery, pre-"Bewitched", but panicky because his TV comrades' wives (producer, director, et al) are all so unhappy and coming on to him because he plays this wonderful sympathetic understanding doctor on TV. Jill St. John, etc., all throwing themselves at him, and he is to be married to the fetching Liz M. All because the husbands play poker every Wednesday. What harpies! What's wrong with letting your man have his boys' night out on Wednesday?

And they really were just playing poker, it's not like they were out getting laid, or even at a strip club! Sheesh. But the one wanted to go dancing, and the other wanted to cook for her husband, and the Japanese woman just wanted to massage her husband and take care of him, so they turned to Deano instead.

I do believe I'd seen this movie before, and I have to admit, even though yes, I'm a feminist, I LOVE these movies from the early '60s, these sexist romps with Dean Martin, or James Coburn, or even Bond, James Bond. I love that crap. It was such a simpler time, you know? Maybe it's because my memories of watching these old movies coincide with how old I was when I first saw them, I was a kid, and it was simpler when I was a kid. I think watching them now takes me back to that time. Hmmmmmm.

Mark and I have written several emails to one another this afternoon. He told me about seeing Tenacious D last week, and I told him how much my birthday sucked. He said not to worry, I'll have another one soon. I guess he's right. They just keep coming.

Joe wrote to me too, and I back to him, I thanked him again for letting me have his ticket after he left the game Friday, and he apologized for leaving. He is so polite.

Really, at this point, I've heard from so many people, strangers, friends, acquaintences, everyone but..... yeah, you know who. My "family". Blech! I'm going to stop worrying about it, soon. One year, might have been last year, I got a Borders Gift Card from them in the mail, about a month after my birthday, so maybe they're just taking their time. I know we've disassociated ourselves from each other, but we never miss Birthdays and Christmas. Never. A card, something. Anything.

I'm doing laundry. And watching "Guiding Light" on tape, and I don't mind the fact that the sun will set at 8:00, instead of 7:00, I'll be glad when the sun is not blaring in my bedroom window at 6:00 a.m.! I hated that, I hate mornings, getting up, having to get up, the kids outside making all that noise at the bus stop when I have more time to sleep, the sun shining far too brightly, mocking me, so I'll be glad it will be 5:00 at 6:00 instead of whatever it was. Me, I'll still be calculating, for some time now.

I fooled the cats already. They wanted food at 5:00, and normally I'd say, "But on a weekday I wouldn't be home until 6:15, you know that", and now I say, to myself, Ha ha, it's really 6:00, and they think they're getting food from me at 5:00!!! Silly cats.

I love the way Windows knows it's time to set the clock ahead! That is so cool. Turn on the PC, get that message, "Windows knows it's time to spring ahead, so we did it for you! Is that okay?!", oh, Sure, sure, go ahead, thanks so much.

So my birthday sucked, but there will be another one next year. Maybe by then I'll have friends, or a lover, or someone around who will take me out and make sure I have fun instead of me just sitting here pondering the opportunities available.

**I have an addendum to this entry, or more likely a clarification, for it seems, from what I've written above, that I wasn't able to have a good Birthday because I was on my own, and I have to say No, that's not it at all. Two years ago I took myself out to the BEST restaurant in town, made a reservation for ONE, went and drank wine and had an excellent meal, all by myself, wrote a restaurant review of my experience and it was published in the local free weekly, so there! Other times I've taken myself out and bought me things, gone to movies, other dinners, etc., but this year I didn't feel it, and that is my fault. No one's but mine. I know I am capable of appreciating myself, and I did give myself an orgasm yesterday so there again! There! I just feel the need to say that I was down, my birthday sucked, but the day before, Friday, was just fine. It's hard to buck up and be strong and independent all the time. Sometimes it's only good for one day at a time. I am proud of myself for taking care of myself, for treating myself on a regular basis, for not going overboard, but knowing my limits, for being frugal when I need to be, for crying when I need to cry, for laughing when it cheers me to do so, for loving me, for being me, in spite of all life's slings and arrows, and for surviving on my own as long as I have.**

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