28 May 2004

It is my birthday today. I'm 24 years old. For a birthday present, I got some soap and some tampons and some Q-tips and a tube of cherry Chapstick. I gave the tampons to somebody else. She looked very happy.

I've never really had a very good birthday. Something always goes horrifically wrong. Once, Peter picked a fight with me until I was so distraught I just laid down in my yard and cried. Last year, I was at school from like, nine in the morning until almost midnight. One year, I got so sick I couldn't even force-feed myself the strawberry shortcake my mom had bought for me... Yeah, it's never been very good... But today has been good so far... You can't beat a stranger giving you a basket full of random crap. Even if cherry Chapstick does smell and taste like children's cough syrup and swamp-ass.

I was in a horrific mood yesterday. It's hard to tell, sometimes, when people are blaming me for my situation. One person told me I should get counseling because I have a problem with perpetuating patterns of sucky relationships. I'm not going to lay on the ground calling myself a victim, but I REALLY don't think I'm to blame here, at least not for everything. Not for MOST of what's going on, really. And if I'm not to blame, then I'm not the one with the problem. And if I'm not the one with the problem, then WHY THE FUCK should *I* be the one in counseling!? Yeah, that infuriated me. And when I'm infuriated, I cry. And when I cry when my hormones are all fucked up, I can't stop crying. And then I feel mopey. Meanwhile, another person was sending me emails about how I need to "grow up enough to accept the consequences of my actions," and enumerating reasons why she doesn't like Neil. For gahd's sake, as if that's what I fucken need! I emailed her back and told her -- pretty much -- to shut the fuck up. I don't want a fucken lecture. And I surely don't want people passing judgment on my actions and the logical consequences thereof. Or Neil. Hell, NONE of my old friends much like Neil, and I know their reasons, and I still don't much care. *I* like Neil -- love him, even; a lot -- and I'm tired of hearing about why I shouldn't.

Anyway, hence the horrific mood.

But I was walking around yesterday evening, and came across this rose bush... Little pink roses all over the place... It was so pretty, even in the almost-dark. So, I plucked two of them and tied them up to dry. It's funny, the stupid little things that make one feel at home, even when one doesn't really have a home at all. The Annex used to have roses tied around the curtains. I didn't live at the Annex; very few people actually did -- but it was "home" to many. Ever since, I've had roses tied up somewhere in my surroundings. It made me feel infinitely better.

Tonight, I will eat tuna fish casserole for dinner. I know I'm not supposed to eat much tuna fish, but it's all I've been wanting for about a week now, so I figure it's best to just indulge. I probably need the iron or whatever. I love tuna casserole. It's cheap, it's fast, it's easy, and you can eat it out of the pan. And it reminds me of my mom, who taught me the recipe. I don't really think there's anything much "homey-er" than tuna casserole.

All my books are gone now, so I had to borrow some from the library yesterday. I borrowed "The Vampire Lestat," by Anne Rice; "Skinny Legs and All" by Tom Robbins (all the other Tom Robbins books have been STOLEN from the Evergreen library, and if I ever find out who took them, I'll hunt them down and kick their asses...); and this one by Barbara Kingsolver. I can't remember the title. Not a bad selection, I don't think, although I don't much like vampire fiction. Heh. Two of my professors recommended the Anne Rice books, though. They both said I should pay attention to the hot gay sex. Or some shit like that. I don't remember what I was supposed to be watching for. Something important, but I'll be damned if I remember. Or care much. I just can't function without books to read.

I've gotta go. Again, please pardon my mood swing yesterday.

~Helena Thomas*

PS -- A friend of mine gave me some used baby clothes for my birthday, too... There's one itty-bitty little thing with the Seattle Mariners' logo on it. It's so fucking cute. I never much liked baseball until I watched a few Mariners' games from the employees' lounge at Fred Meyer's Department Store a couple years ago. Maybe someday, I'll be able to afford a little hat to go with the little outfit. Fuck that's cute!

"Twenty-four and there's so much more..." -- Neil Young, "Old Man."