27

It is in fact my birthday today (32 degrees F, partly cloudy, visibility 10 mi), not my unbirthday, and I have to say, it got off to a rough start.

I am house/dog-sitting for some friends and noticed that their English Springer Spaniel, Henry, was acting a little odd last night. By odd, I mean urinating in the house multiple times, pacing, whining, and scratching. I figured he was stressed out because his owners were gone and there was a change in his schedule. After a night of alternating dog-barking and dog-snoring, I managed to throw the covers off and crawl out of bed to take him for a walk.

He did his usual territorial marking except I noticed that when he would lift his leg to pee, nothing came out. But Henry didn't seem to mind. He just kept doing his thing. Then, blood starting coming out. Oh shit, please not today I thought. I had two meetings scheduled today. The first being with the Chair of the Biology Department at Portland Community College where I had hoped to conduct a witty and charming tête-à-tête, so much that the Chair would hire me on the spot as a full-time Biology instructor (my application is still under review). Given the circumstances, Henry took precedence so I immediately took him to the vet and called the Chair to reschedule our meeting.

He hasn't returned my call. Yet. Henry is sleeping off his injection off super-duper antibiotics.

The second meeting I had scheduled today was with the director of ESL for Portland Public School District. I wanted to get involved with tutoring english, science, math and--why not--german, too. I help kids, kids help me. We all leave mentally stimulated.

I showed up at the school. The secretary said he had already left for the day. I secretly fume because this is the second time he has stood me up. I started talking to the secretary about what I was interested in and she gave me information regarding PAID tutoring positions within a school that is only a 10 min bike ride from my house. Paid + bike ride = better deal.

I drive 40 min back home. In the interim, the director had called and left a message saying that he was in the building, just not in his office. Sorry, I still think you're flaky.

At this point, I have a deep suspicion that my birthday luck has turned a blind eye. Then my sister calls with the following news and I know my ominous inklings were sealed:

Hot Actor Found Dead.

Now this news just plain pissed me off. You're hot, Heath! I liked your movies! Why did you have to go and pull a River and die on me!? On my birthday!?!

***

I don't know why I haven't been excited for my birthday. I know it's just a day, but I enjoy having something to look forward to regardless. This is the first time that I have not woken up with "happy happy (un)birthday to you...to you! happy happy (un)birthday to me...yes you" stuck in my head. I really do love that song.

No butterflies, no "special" feeling lingering in the air, no birthday party, no plans. Nothing. Most surprising is that all of this was self-inflicted. I didn't bother reminding friends that it was my birthday. I don't care if people forget. I wanted to lay low & keep my head down. Does this mean I have become old and *gasp* disillusioned? Maybe I am too old to get all giddy about birthdays, but dammit, it only happens once a year and I wanna have fun with it. Well, normally I do.

I think it comes down to the fact that this past year has presented several transitions and challenges which have undoubtedly expended a lot of physical and mental energy.

When at 26, I sought changes, hurdles, and adaptations, at 27 I seek fluidity, steady growth and routine.

Bored.

It's 4:30pm and I am in the middle of watch The Simpson's Movie--SpideyPig, SpideyPig, doing whatever a SpideyPig does--having already eaten a burned grilled cheese sandwich with canned tomato soup and made a makeshift matte frame out of old grocery bags for a screen print, which I bought at a local craft fair.

The lugubrious weather does little for motivating me to leave the comfort of my home. And where would I go anyway? It's Tuesday. I don't work until Thursday (work is going great, by the way). I already bought toilet paper. I don't have a pet to tend to. I could ride down to the co-op and grab something for dinner, but there's a chance I'm meeting friends later. The kitchen has been cleaned, the living room floor has been swept and the awkward conversation between one of my roommates and I has concluded. The latter regarding a passive aggressive note, which she left for the rest of us to find in the morning.

I'm sorry, but the rosemary was not yours to begin with and if you wanted to keep it, then you should have placed the rosemary in a bag or bowl instead of letting its needles shed all over the freakin' kitchen floor and into the crevasses of the radio upon which the stems lain.

Also, the reason I moved the half-used Hershey's squeezy fudge from its location on the prescribed juice shelf in the refrigerator was because the orange juice carton does not fit on any of the internal shelves, it only fits on the juice shelf. I didn't think it was a big deal. Last time I checked, one person was not allowed to occupy 2/3 of the fridge. You have 3 other roommates. Get used to it.

Conclude mid-day rant.

**I should clarify that the italicized paragraphs were my responses to the passive aggressive note, not the note itself. To update, all is much calmer on the homefront...mainly because said roommate is in Mexico for the majority of the month.

...I drove across the US. Again.

Another 2700 miles added to the odometer.
Seven states transected. (Tennessee, Arkansas, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oregon.)
1000+ phallic cacti observed.
13 gas stations visited.
3 mountain passes passed.
4 wild boars a-spotted.
2 Taco Bells digested.
1 IHOP hopped.
1 pair of snow chains purchased.
1 more book on tape listened. (Tracy Chevalier's Burning Bright. B)
And a partridge in a pear tree.