I haven't even slept yet, but I've only been awake for about 16 hours anyway so what difference does it make? Last year I wasn't able to do anything on my birthday and a few days later when everyone wanted to try and surprise me I kind of ruined it by not wanting to leave the house. The Man finally broke down and told me our friends were trying to surprise me. I think out of sheer stubbornness and grumpiness that no one wanted to do anything ON my birthday I felt like pouting and not leaving the house.
Generally speaking I'm pretty stable but when I feel something, like really feel something, I kind of enjoy wallowing in it for a little while. My definition of a little while can be anywhere from two minute to two hours but that's about it. Does that even make sense?
I like to wallow in self-pity, doubt, fear, or anger for a little while. I anger, I pout, I shake, I rage, I get over it and move on with my life. It's why I like to just go with it and be by myself. The feeling is so intense that if I roll around in it, smell it, and snuggle it for a little while it pretty much goes away.
One of my quirks I guess. I am actually really hard to surprise because I am so headstrong I end up being accidentally uncooperative. I also ask a lot of questions most of the time. You can surprise me I just have to know it's coming. If I know something is happening, but I don't really know what I'll cooperate and go with it just to find out what it is.
It's weird. I actually don't remember very many of my birthdays.0.o I remember last year, but the rest just kind of blur together as a mass of disappointment. Not through anyone elses fault mind you, mostly because I'm broke as a joke and it isn't a funny one. Almost always have been though so nothing new to me.
I grew up so broke we entertained ourselves with sticks and crap like that. One time my parents left me to mind all 5 of the youngers. When they came home all my siblings were in a tree and I was pacing around the bottom of said tree with a stick. I had convinced them all it was a game. I don't remember what it was now, but if they tried to come down I started poking them with the stick. Wasn't I a great babysitter? The house wasn't a wreck (no more than usual anyway), none of the kids were missing, and when my parents came home we were all there to greet them.
So without further ado I have a picture of a blurry photo of all of them up in the tree.
Just to explain: we were moving and I was crammed into the passenger seat like a sardine. Everything I am holding (and the helmet I am wearing) is there because there was no place else to put it. The Man says I was adorable, I think I look creepy and kind of like I want to kill someone.
And here is one of our cats being cute, fat, and lazy:
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