30: The First of the Years Of Which I’m Supposed To Be Afraid (For Cultural Reasons)

Notation One: This actually works as a pseudo-linear follow-up to last year’s Birthday Angst post, The Year In Which I Will Significantly Lower ALL MY STANDARDS, Based On Past Experience. Because you know what happens when you decide nothing good is for you and you give up on having good things?

Good things happen. As if to remind you that good things exist and you actually can occasionally have them. Unexpectedly and perfectly, as if to spite you. And then the good things go away.*

Notation Two: No new blog design this year. I’m not done using this one yet. Mostly because I still think tentacles are fucking adorable.

Moving on.


First, the rationale behind my Birthday Angst posts (condensed version): Some people view their birthday as a celebration of themselves and their life. I view my birthday as a reminder that I’m one year closer to death and what the fuck do I have to show for it? This puts all the things I would rather ignore uncomfortably into focus and I spend the entire day (if not also the week leading up to the day) mopey and insufferable.**

The list of things I wanted by this year (written last year):

  • Be enrolled in hair school. <— did not happen (and probably won’t happen)
  • Have a shitty job to pay the bills. <— done
  • Have some money saved up. <— making progress
  • Have written at least one thing I’d be sort of okay with letting another human-ish being read. <— nope!
  • Be following my Seekrit Writing Plan. <— not really
  • Not hate how my hair looks all the time. <— eh… getting there
  • Have a new tattoo (but I think I’ve got enough piercings… maybe). <— done

This past year, I:

  • Decided my hair is black. Technically blue is my favorite (and it’s still half-blue) but black has the advantage of passing in a Real Job™ (and you’ve no idea how much it pains me that that is a concern).
  • Got a job (have yet to have a total breakdown,**** although I’ve wanted to walk out numerous times).
  • Flailed at writing and decided to take a break, which has been going… pretty okay, actually. (I’m conflicted about this.)
  • Found someone who wants to make out with me.*****
  • Had dubstep brought to my attention. And of course I fucking love it.

By this time next year, I want to:

  • Be elsewhere, which is more specifically defined as “not-here,” which is further explained as “I hate this place and want out.” Also, reasons are involved.
  • Get an office job. Because I’ve never done that before. Data entry maybe. It sounds boring in a way that I wouldn’t be bored with, if that makes any sense?
  • Be writing consistently.
  • Seekrit Writing Plan: revise and follow.
  • Develop my sense of personal style.
  • Have at least two more tattoos/pieces (I stopped counting them as individual tattoos at some point?). I have the ideas, just need to get the appointments.

Aaand back to The Smiths.******


*I don’t see any divine cause-and-effect here. I am an atheist… but if I wasn’t, I’d have to conclude god is one sadistic motherfucker.
**Christ I’m fun at parties.***
***Seriously though: Never take me to parties. This is like a rule or something.
*****Have I mentioned I’m basically fourteen? Because I’m basically fourteen.
******Yes, I am actually moping and listening to The Smiths. Because “How Soon Is Now” is a beautiful sad song (also, see above: I’m basically fourteen).