Phew! What a delay in writing thanks to allergies and other obligations popping up, namely me taking on the bulk of the house/catsitting once I was well enough…I better not have broken anything in my right foot!
I wanted to navel-gaze about my 21st birthday but it seems I did this already! The only thing I could do to “punch up” that reminiscing would require a specific photo not for the faint of heart. It was 25 years ago so I’m over the embarrassment.
Instead I want to pontificate over why I always take my birthday off because 20 years ago was the last time I didn’t, no wait, I did go to my awful job in 1998. I don’t count this for a couple reasons. I was quitting in order to move back to Austin in three days and I had stopped “working” at NorTel ever since I got the green light from Adecco/Apple. Besides, it felt like a day off with the bitchin’ dinner I had at il Sogno paid through the expense account of my inept employer.
Back to 1994.
Having a Summer birthday always meant I had the “day off” until I turned 16. Thirty years ago, I landed my first gig at Farrell’s the day after. Had I known what a trying experience it was for my immature brain/personality, I would’ve stayed “unemployed” and a prisoner of the parents’ generosity. Earning my own spending money did rock after a few months.
I was spared the “agony” at 17 thanks to it being the day we left Tampa with our virtual tail between our legs. Living there remains a 50-50 matter to me; could’ve been awesome or horrendous.
I got the opportunity to establish the tradition I’m yammering about at 18. The Summer of 1986 sucked big time. It was a countdown to my first semester of university starting. I never thought I’d live to see the day when I would be thrilled when school began! For many friends, graduation from high school was usually a mix of celebrating, saying goodbye and working in preparation for the next level of life. Well, it’s what I thought it should be. My parents transformed post K-12 life into a new disappointment and anxiety source. I had to start working immediately, they didn’t have any money to help me attend Marquette. By July 29, 1986, I had burned through two crappy minimum-wage jobs and couldn’t care less anymore. The more forward-thinking maternal grandparents pulled through in the clutch to my relief; they were right to predict my old man would fail in the higher-ed department.
So for the inaugural me party, I saw Aliens, wandered Eastland Mall a tad and I’m certain I read some comic books I bought at Dreamth.
The streak carried on every July 29th. South Street in Philly; bus trip to visit Grandma and Brian; Milwaukee pukefest; comic-book show and then dinner with Cousin Leesa; enjoying the finer things I loved about Milwaukee; and taking a pause from GDW’s impending Ishtar release at GenCon! The meal from Denny’s was free in 1992.
When the chain got broken in 1993, it was more of a time mismanagement matter I caused. I hadn’t been employed by DG long enough to have the vacation days I needed to play hooky legally, attend GenCon and go to the Silder Wedding. The middle choice should’ve been the one I sacrificed. The wounds of my GDW firing were still too fresh to enjoy the convention. It was like being a recently released rehab patient going to the Electric Daisy Festival (a Grateful Dead concert for Millenials). The occasion also being my 25th birthday heightened the depression I felt.
The bad luck continued the following year. I had to work at University Towers and my relationship with Doc was souring. The regret I was feeling over moving to Austin started to shift into high gear. I did receive an encouraging phone call from Helen that night so it wasn’t a total wash. Such a pisser otherwise. Here I was, living “the dream” after toughing out the cold, sad winter of 1993-94 in the Land of Having a College Education is a Liability; today I call it Northern Kentucky while official maps say it’s Central Illinois.
It all was changed in time with 1995 and my day being a Saturday didn’t hurt. I love my 27th birthday too. I spent a chunk of time with every person whose company I enjoyed as soon as Friday night began. Matters between Doc and me had been patched up way back in May and I had flown to Chicago twice! Despite the busy agenda, I made a more conscious effort to establish one thing I have always kept going…reflecting on where I am, where I’ve been and where I think I’m going.
Therefore the successive, weaker birthdays in 1996-98 weren’t a complete waste. If nothing else, I didn’t have to endure the grind of work in addition to the thinking about what really I wanted to do, besides not be at work!
From 1999 on, my birthday has been a great celebration with friends near and far, with Somara and most importantly, it’s just not “another day” as Patton Oswalt built a whole routine around to hilarious effect. Thanks for being a part of one or more!