Birthday Punches

My birthday was yesterday, the 10th. Normally I quite like my birthday: early October is typically that wonderful time of autumn in DC/MD when it’s just barely warm enough to not need a jacket, but cool enough that jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt are just right. I should have realized that something was amiss this year when it was nearly 80 degrees and humid outside.

I did not have a wonderful birthday. I had spent the previous evening working quite late, finishing an inane project for a computer science course, and had to wake up prematurely for a Spanish class. After said class I spent the earlier part of the day playing Magic (yes, I’m a dork) with the usual bunch of social misfits in the UMBC Commons, and then spent the afternoon cleaning my friend’s house (which isn’t really so bad, as I find cleaning therapeutic). I then tried to find a cute girl I’d seen around campus at the the Anime Society (yes, I’m twice the dork, and yes it was possible that said girl would have been there). But she wasn’t there. So I went to see a late show of Kill Bill with the aforementioned friend (the one with the house), who couldn’t stand the violence and walked out. So I watched Kill Bill alone, and heartily enjoyed it. I might write my thoughts on it in a separate post.

It was then our collective intention to get drunk and watch Fight Club. And while my suitemates had gotten together and pitched in for a birthday bottle of Grey Goose for me, the only one of legal age had taken off for the weekend before purchasing it. With nothing more than an bottle of appalling Bacardi Orange in the fridge we forewent debauchery and instead watched the movie while I ate green grapes and drank Pallegrino. My friend was falling asleep, and the movie made me sad and pensive (I’ve seen it before), so I went home about halfway through and mused on my lack of self-discipline (not a euphemism) before I went to sleep, alone.

Still, it’s been a good two decades. And I had a lovely country French meal with my parents this evening: foie gras, rabbit with chard and shitake mushrooms, Grand Marnier souffle, and a port glass of Quebecois cassis when we got home.

I don’t know what to think, these days. I’d write here more if I did. I just know that I don’t notice being sad and alone if I keep my life going fast, but that it’s terribly hard to live at a fast clip as a student. I never realized how much time I spent loving. And time slips by now more quickly than it ever has, but I don’t want that loving time back. I’d burn out quickly in the blood of her heart, still, if I could.