thejunipertree (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thejunipertree) wrote2007-10-10 01:26 am
thejunipertree) wrote2007-10-10 01:26 am
Entry tags:
birthday whine
The following is my entry written on Friday night, but was not posted due to my internet connection being borked for a while and I was busy all weekend:
I was actually doing ok today. Well, err, yesterday since it's now after midnight.
I had come to terms with the fact that I was indeed aging another year, and a pivotal year at that. 33! My "Jesus Year", as Joanna calls it. To be brutally frank, and quite dopey, the thing that really clinched it for me was the realization that my now-current age is also a Smashing Pumpkins song. I never said I wasn't a dork.
At any rate.
I was actually doing ok. Work was incredibly annoying, but I muddled through it. I came home, cleaned up the apartment a bit because people will be here on Saturday night and no one wants an icky apartment to hang out in. I took parts four and five of a five part online Human Biology exam. I fed the cats and the ferret. I opened presents from the Engineer (and dude, let me tell you how he's won boyfriend points for the rest of this year because he got me a wee bat preserved bat in a jar). I made dinner. I ate some leftover cake smash from a failed bake-sale experiment. I watched Ghost Hunters.
And then, around eleven o'clock, it hit me.
My father hadn't called me to wish me a happy birthday.
What. The. Blithering. Fuck.
Some of you may remember last year when I got my panties twisted because my brother forgot my birthday. And this same group of you may also remember that in the entry I wrote about that particularly fun event, I stated that I really don't ask for much when it comes to my birthdays. I don't expect fan-fare or presents; shit, I don't even expect a card. I don't require a fuss to be made over me. And I mean this shit; it's not just spin to make me look saintly.
What I do require, however, is that certain people in my life verbally acknowledge the occasion. They are, in descending order of "you're going to get your ass handed to you if you forget this shit": my boyfriend, my father, my brother, and my best friend.
That's it. Four people. I told you I don't ask for much.
And I find it enormously fucked up that people I've been friends with online for a very short time managed to put forth the effort that my own goddamn father couldn't pull off. Hell, even Thee Pumpkin Girl text-messaged me to wish me a happy birthday and I haven't heard from her since, like, March.
This hurts.
A lot more than I realized at first.
When I was discussing this with Wemble on the phone tonight, she said, "Well. Maybe he's coming over early tomorrow morning with a big surprise present for you." And all I could do was laugh. I can't even remember the last time my father bought me a present for anything, let alone my birthday. But, that's not even the point. The point is that he forgot. And I am pissed.
At the same time, I feel incredibly guilty for being angry and upset. I've sat here for an hour now, writing in fits and starts, deleting almost every complaint I have because it makes him sound like a deadbeat douchebag. And nestled in between the guilt are vast waves of worry. What if something happened to him?
I don't know.
I'm going to bed. If I sit here and think about this any more than I already have, I'm just going to make myself even more upset. And that won't serve any purpose.
Maybe he'll call me tomorrow.
**EDIT**
Well. He did wind up calling me on Saturday. I'll give him that.
However, when one forgets one's only offspring's birthday and follows this up with a voicemail message stating, "I'm calling to wish you a happy birthday. I forgot to call you yesterday. Shit happens. Call me back. Love you." one is not looked on entirely too kindly by said only offspring. Shit, even Middle Brother remembered this year. And he got me a card. Two cards, even. In my family, that's our version of a sloppy demonstration of affection. One card in my family is like a banner day in a regular family's birthday reportoire. Two cards? That's like getting a goddamn pony or something.
I love my father; I really do. And not only because he's only one of two family members that I still really acknowledge. He's my daddy. And he's done a fuck of a lot for me in my life. But, he's also let me down more times than I can goddamn count.
Sure, the good outweighs the bad. But, it doesn't make the bad hurt any less.
I really need to come to terms with the fact that I will never have the family that I've wanted for as long as I can remember. How the hell am I supposed to accomplish that?
I was actually doing ok today. Well, err, yesterday since it's now after midnight.
I had come to terms with the fact that I was indeed aging another year, and a pivotal year at that. 33! My "Jesus Year", as Joanna calls it. To be brutally frank, and quite dopey, the thing that really clinched it for me was the realization that my now-current age is also a Smashing Pumpkins song. I never said I wasn't a dork.
At any rate.
I was actually doing ok. Work was incredibly annoying, but I muddled through it. I came home, cleaned up the apartment a bit because people will be here on Saturday night and no one wants an icky apartment to hang out in. I took parts four and five of a five part online Human Biology exam. I fed the cats and the ferret. I opened presents from the Engineer (and dude, let me tell you how he's won boyfriend points for the rest of this year because he got me a wee bat preserved bat in a jar). I made dinner. I ate some leftover cake smash from a failed bake-sale experiment. I watched Ghost Hunters.
And then, around eleven o'clock, it hit me.
My father hadn't called me to wish me a happy birthday.
What. The. Blithering. Fuck.
Some of you may remember last year when I got my panties twisted because my brother forgot my birthday. And this same group of you may also remember that in the entry I wrote about that particularly fun event, I stated that I really don't ask for much when it comes to my birthdays. I don't expect fan-fare or presents; shit, I don't even expect a card. I don't require a fuss to be made over me. And I mean this shit; it's not just spin to make me look saintly.
What I do require, however, is that certain people in my life verbally acknowledge the occasion. They are, in descending order of "you're going to get your ass handed to you if you forget this shit": my boyfriend, my father, my brother, and my best friend.
That's it. Four people. I told you I don't ask for much.
And I find it enormously fucked up that people I've been friends with online for a very short time managed to put forth the effort that my own goddamn father couldn't pull off. Hell, even Thee Pumpkin Girl text-messaged me to wish me a happy birthday and I haven't heard from her since, like, March.
This hurts.
A lot more than I realized at first.
When I was discussing this with Wemble on the phone tonight, she said, "Well. Maybe he's coming over early tomorrow morning with a big surprise present for you." And all I could do was laugh. I can't even remember the last time my father bought me a present for anything, let alone my birthday. But, that's not even the point. The point is that he forgot. And I am pissed.
At the same time, I feel incredibly guilty for being angry and upset. I've sat here for an hour now, writing in fits and starts, deleting almost every complaint I have because it makes him sound like a deadbeat douchebag. And nestled in between the guilt are vast waves of worry. What if something happened to him?
I don't know.
I'm going to bed. If I sit here and think about this any more than I already have, I'm just going to make myself even more upset. And that won't serve any purpose.
Maybe he'll call me tomorrow.
**EDIT**
Well. He did wind up calling me on Saturday. I'll give him that.
However, when one forgets one's only offspring's birthday and follows this up with a voicemail message stating, "I'm calling to wish you a happy birthday. I forgot to call you yesterday. Shit happens. Call me back. Love you." one is not looked on entirely too kindly by said only offspring. Shit, even Middle Brother remembered this year. And he got me a card. Two cards, even. In my family, that's our version of a sloppy demonstration of affection. One card in my family is like a banner day in a regular family's birthday reportoire. Two cards? That's like getting a goddamn pony or something.
I love my father; I really do. And not only because he's only one of two family members that I still really acknowledge. He's my daddy. And he's done a fuck of a lot for me in my life. But, he's also let me down more times than I can goddamn count.
Sure, the good outweighs the bad. But, it doesn't make the bad hurt any less.
I really need to come to terms with the fact that I will never have the family that I've wanted for as long as I can remember. How the hell am I supposed to accomplish that?
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I'm also sorry fucking LJ flaked and does not do reminders anymore, so HAPPY DAMN BIRTHDAY, MISS. A palindromic age can't be all bad. :)
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oh dude. I am so right there with you.
big love to you.
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Speaking of Smashing Pumpkins, I was born in January 1979, so we can both be dorks. HA!
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hee. We are such tools. :D
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happy belated pookie
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im sorry
:(
also: fathers are sometimes just TEH SUCK
mine didnt even bother to call when my mom died.
whatta awesome guy! YEAH!
youre so right on with the family of choice thing.
theyre invaluable.
*many many belated bday hugs*
:)
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And - Smashing Pumpkins birthday FTW. One of the songs I really like and tried to learn how to play, though I keep getting distracted by Disarm.
age ain't nothin' but a metaphor
no subject
Sorry about the car. The cat. The brother's car.
Maybe you were supposed to get your three disasters out of the way early this birthday year?