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This Is My / Extravaganza / Mine All Mine |
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| Today,
I turn 25. As of tomorrow, I will be closer to 30 than I am to 20.
Holy mackinoly.
I am celebrating my birthday with a four day Extravaganza. (This is day three, by the way.) On Saturday, I slept in, read for a bit, and was taken out to 360, a hip and pricey restaurant in Hollywood, on the corner of Sunset and Vine. It’s on the 19th floor of a building (in earthquake country, a 19 floor building is tall) and boasts a spectacular view of Hollywood and a “hipsters in love” décor. The company included Matt, Danielle, Abby, Lucy, Charlotte and Tim. For dinner, I had: two Cosmopolitans, pistachio-crusted salmon with snow peas, molten chocolate cake, and sampled others’ banana cream pie and mango sorbet. Everything was excellent, and I particularly recommend the salmon and the banana cream pie. And the Cosmos. Driving home was sort of a blur, involving me singing “Superfreak” very loudly and everyone else laughing at me. Apparently, they put alcohol in those drinks. Go figure.
Yesterday, I fulfilled my primary birthday wish: I had a painting party! Down the street from our house is one of those places where you go and paint your own ceramics, which are then fired in the kiln and glazed, and come out all shiny and bright. I painted some fish wind chimes in a blue and green color scheme, which I thought was appropriate (I am a Pisces, after all). I get them back on Thursday. My parents also threw me a small family shindig. I got a gazing ball from my mother (theoretically for a garden, if we had one) that is a really interesting addition to our living room decor. (It’s superfreaky…) I also got an Abercrombie & Fitch fragrance gift set, Sliding Doors, money, and a date with my sister for a movie, lunch and some custom-mixed makeup. The crack whore was also at my birthday party, and apparently will be staying with my sister at my parents’ house for the duration of spring break. I have nothing to say about that except the obvious. I gave you a topic. Extrapolate amongst yourselves.
I hate to taint the Extravaganza with bad news, but I got a letter from one of the universities I applied to, the one in Massachusetts, which says “We regret that we are unable to recommend you for candidacy to our graduate program…” etc. etc. etc. This rejection hurts worse because it feels like an attack on my soft, chewy center—my writing. You know how we artists are about our art. I am now convinced that more rejections await me, and that the only thing I actually want to do with my life will become an impossibility, at least for another year, probably longer. And being on the 20/30 age hump adds into the mix the whole “time is running out” pressure. I think the Extravaganza is the only thing distracting me. Without it, I would most likely fall into the same tailspin that the Fulbright rejection sent me into. We all remember how much fun I was to be around back then, right? This time, the disappointment manifested itself in my dreams; at least, I think that’s what the dream was about. It was a dream about Tim. It was actually a very sweet dream about the romantic idyll we never got to experience. But I woke up profoundly depressed. (I had no idea that my broken heart could still pain and pang after all this time. I wonder if Tim has any inkling of how devastating that whole escapade really was…) So that particular dream, the dream of me and Tim together, has come back to bite me on the ass yet again. It’s a dream that I cherished for a long time, but was ultimately not to be. The dream was abruptly shattered in 1998, in that cruel month of April, when I confronted him (knowing exactly what would happen) because I Just Couldn’t Take It Anymore. I think the subconscious message of the dream is: you weren’t good enough for Tim and you weren’t good enough for this school, either. Aah, shattered dreams.
On the plus side, my search for a soulmate is going rather well. You know Mar and Kate are already practically my ESMs, except that they live in places other than Los Angeles. (Apparently, there are places other than Los Angeles.) And this summer, the odds are good that I’ll be meeting them. I mean Mar lives close enough that one of us should manage a trip within the next several months, but the big news here is that I might be going to NYC this summer. My sister is graduating from college in June, and my parents offered to either throw her a party or send her on a trip. She wants to go to Disney World or New York, and she wants me and Lucy to come with her. Of course, Disney World is really expensive if you don’t have Bruce around to get you all the discounts and free admission to everything. So I’m pushing for NYC, where we have people to stay with (one of Abby’s friends, if not some of mine) and which we’ve been longing to revisit ever since our first NYC trip, four years ago. I’ve even been longingly checking out fares myself. This is all just a castle in the air right now, but it’s exciting nonetheless.
Don’t Let The 25th Birthday
Extravaganza
Pass You By!
1. Open your windows and sing “Superfreak” very loudly. “She’s a very kinky girl…” 2. For one day only, keep coming back to Mo’s journal every hour on the hour, giving her the present of record-breaking hits. (Keep in mind you’ll have to work hard to overcome the record set on The Day She Was Linked By Kymm.) 3. Write Monique a birthday rengu (even shorter than a 5/7/5 haiku, a rengu has a syllable count of 3/5/3. “It’s not hard / to write rengu for / Mo’s birthday”). 4. Have your baby today. (Come on, Jolene. I’m counting on you, here.) 5. Sing your rengu very loudly to the tune of “Superfreak.” “Kinky girl / likes to write poems / what a slut. // From her head / down to her toenails / Superfreak.” 6. Two words: send cash. 7. Have a Cosmopolitan at your favorite bar. 8. Watch Swingers or L.A. Story. 9. Call up your favorite radio station and dedicate a song to Mo. 10. Go out to eat with your friends, and include one friend who is easily embarrassed. Tell the wait staff that it’s their birthday. When the cake arrives, make sure to sing “Happy Birthday, dear Monique” even though that isn’t their name and it isn’t their birthday. Take pictures of the ensuing confusion and hilarity. 11. Donate money to an environmental or animal rights group. Which you should do anyway, you know. 12. Do the Jell-O ball dance. 13. Make up an award (complete with cheesy award graphic) and give it to Monique. 14. Instead of saying “om” in your meditation today, say “mo.” 15. Love me in spite of my megalomania. 16. If you’ve never written to Mo before, do so today. You might want to ask her why she keeps switching from first to third person. It’s disconcerting, and she should be made aware of that. 17. Join the Church of Flicka. 18. “Keep in mind / Monique really needs / a new job. // Find her one / that pays lots of cash. / Thank you much.” 19. Go have a TGIFriday’s turkey burger, because those are good. 20. Go to the bookstore and buy yourself any book you want. Write Mo for suggestions, if necessary. 21. Start an indignant letter-writing campaign to the University of Massachusetts. “You said no / to Mo’s attendance. / What the fuck?” 22. Eat some chocolate. 23. Make plans for a religious pilgrimage to Los Angeles, or, as you will come to know it, Mo-cca. 24. Make the blow job face. 25. Just remember that I love you… and keep reading! |
What
I'm Reading:
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Monty Python Speaks, and Three To Score.What I'm Writing: Nada.
Birthday blue.Journal Quote of the Day: "I thought I was doing fine. I really did. But today I feel like Sally when she finds out Joe is getting married.Random Tidbit: Do you remember a sailor long ago? Do you remember blah blah Theodore. Long did he blah blah blah blah blah blah blah...Days Until My Birthday: It is my birthday! |
