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Aug. 10th, 2007 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI don't like my birthday. It has traditionally been a day of pain and woe and emo, with the occasional exciting moments of being legal to do stuff. My last few birthdays have been not so bad. Saying that, I cried all the way into work on my eighteenth because I was on the tail-end of a break-up (my own fault, but still) and my lack of text messages made me convinced that I HAD NO FRIENDS and I was eighteen and I had to CLEAN TOILETS and ALL WAS WOE AND PAIN. The day improved, marginally, as I ended up having a sort of three-day drinking fest and went to Iona's and stuff, but it began badly. Nineteenth was fun, though.
Having a birthday in August means everyone is either away or just forgets. It's okay being in school for your birthday, as people remember it and aren't, you know, in Spain for three years running or alternatively it's not just you and your family in a caravan whilst it rains. I like other people's birthdays. I like buying presents and stuff and having the parties and other things of goodness.
Anyway. Tomorrow is my twentieth birthday. I am ANCIENT. I know, I know, I work with people more than four times my age (and sometimes more than five times my age) and that this is totally not the end at all, but twenty just seems like a scary number of finality, the end of my halycon years of rebellion and madness and...
Wait, I had no years of rebellion and madness. Oh, god. I ONLY HAVE ELEVEN HOURS OF REBELLION AND MADNESS LEFT. SO MANY YEARS, WASTED!
Er, yes. Tomorrow Simon is going to Surprise Me, which is causing me no small amount of anxiety because I can be a bit of a control freak sometimes. I'm sure it will be fun, whatever the hell it is. I will, er, maybe be offline this weekend? Who knows.
I need to go and get ready for work. It's going to be really hard enjoying my last eleven hours of rebellion and madness whilst seven of them consist of being on shift and caring for the elderly. One of whom, by the way, asked me today why he wasn't getting any rent for all these people living in his house. Oh well. At least tomorrow represents my first birthday where I've not been a. working, b. panicking about exam results or c. both.
Having a birthday in August means everyone is either away or just forgets. It's okay being in school for your birthday, as people remember it and aren't, you know, in Spain for three years running or alternatively it's not just you and your family in a caravan whilst it rains. I like other people's birthdays. I like buying presents and stuff and having the parties and other things of goodness.
Anyway. Tomorrow is my twentieth birthday. I am ANCIENT. I know, I know, I work with people more than four times my age (and sometimes more than five times my age) and that this is totally not the end at all, but twenty just seems like a scary number of finality, the end of my halycon years of rebellion and madness and...
Wait, I had no years of rebellion and madness. Oh, god. I ONLY HAVE ELEVEN HOURS OF REBELLION AND MADNESS LEFT. SO MANY YEARS, WASTED!
Er, yes. Tomorrow Simon is going to Surprise Me, which is causing me no small amount of anxiety because I can be a bit of a control freak sometimes. I'm sure it will be fun, whatever the hell it is. I will, er, maybe be offline this weekend? Who knows.
I need to go and get ready for work. It's going to be really hard enjoying my last eleven hours of rebellion and madness whilst seven of them consist of being on shift and caring for the elderly. One of whom, by the way, asked me today why he wasn't getting any rent for all these people living in his house. Oh well. At least tomorrow represents my first birthday where I've not been a. working, b. panicking about exam results or c. both.
