Birthday

Today was my birthday. My mother forgot. No one in my family called. I hate my life, my age, and where I'm going. My flatmate got me a cupcake from the grocery at least. Goes well with the champagne I bought myself. I figure someone has to celebrate me, especially me. Besides, I read in Sam's diary that he secretly wants to do it with an alcoholic. He said he wanted her to reek of "booze" and to lick "hooch" off her breasts. He wants a Leaving Las Vegas kind of love. I couldn't stop going potty when I read that. I felt sick all day, thinking I wasn't good enough because I was too good.

14,000 Things To Be Happy About

There's a book with that title. Robbie gave it to me, and it's still on my nightstand with his inscription. I've been wondering lately what there is to be happy about. What makes any of us happy? Doing what you love to do is too easy and obvious. Happiness isn't just a mood, and I'll choke if I hear it's a journey. I just wonder what will make me happy in this world because G-d knows I'm rotten. I don't like my life but don't have the strength to make changes. I guess when I can't stand it for much longer, I'll do something about it. Like move. Lose my roommate and move into a smaller flat, where I won't have to label my food with my name. But that's running from unhappiness, not the same really as moving toward happiness. Does anyone have this figured out?

National Hamburger Month

May in America: National Hamburger Month. Who, I want to know, gave such a designation to May? May is for flagpoles and ribbons, for the flowers that come from April showers. The people behind the "Beef, it's what's for dinner" campaign had to be a part of this.

All in all though, gives a girl one hellofa motive to order the big-ass burger instead of the salad of mixed greens. Like I needed a reason.

Touching Half The World, and yourself

When I went through my last breakup, it seems I signed up for some self-esteem newsletter. I mean seriously, just signing up for one of those things has to deduct points off your self-esteem meter as it is. It's all pastel and says, "lift your spirits" beside its tagline, "Touching Half The World." Bloody hell. That just sounds scabby in a self-help way.

Its theme today was "Establishing Boundaries, Trust, and Intimacy." Let's just say that "you can trust me" never comforts me anymore. It's been betrayed too many times. My father, certainly. Boyfriends. And the worst: friends. Amy started dating Robbie behind my back two years ago, and it still hurts. Sammy tells me I can trust him, but how far? And with what? My finances? My heart? It makes you tough, I used to think.

But mostly, lately, I think about T. How we were close, and my not trusting her led to our demise. I regret who I am sometimes, how my distrust of people prevents me from opportunity. I live a closed life, with an open body, which makes me sad.

The Beginning of Overcast

Today I got my third tattoo. I used to think they were trashy, growing up, back when I still hid things from my parents. Scanks get tatts and diseases and have babies before they're legally able to drink. Sculls and lizards. Dumb whimsical daisies. They think it's cute, a flower on their ankle. I think it's immature, like playing music on your outgoing message. My first tatt was a Japanese symbol for respect. It's on my pelvic bone. Once I get a digital camera, I'll post it. My second is on my lower back, a swirly design I saw in a magazine. Today I just got the outline. I go back in a while for the color. It's a cloud near my clavicle, because I love rain and think we're our brightest when the sun doesn't shine. Because when the sun doesn't shine, there are no shadows. I don't believe in living in those. Not anymore. But this is only the beginning...