Somewhere, Over The RainbowFebruary 20, 2008 at 10:26 PM | Posted in Personal | Leave a comment
Okay, see–the thing is, I wrote this whole big thing earlier that I’m not going to post, about me and my pity party. It’s my party, and I can have self-pity if I want.
I thought I wanted to be acknowledged in some way, or have it be celebrated, or whatever–but I guess I really don’t. The people I work with kind of forgot my birthday and it hurt my feelings, and then they scrambled to make up for it, which I enjoyed despite my cynical outlook.
That short paragraph right there condensed a few pages of emo-like rambling. It’s amazing what editing can do. I leave work early, go home and take a nap. Up to that point, that was the best part of my day. I had the creeping realization, however, that once again my kids were not going to call me on my birthday. This feeling was solidified when I got a voicemail from The Storm (and thank God she’s being a bitch again, to earn her name; all is right with the universe) bitching about child support, and I called her and said, do me a favor for my birthday, and don’t call me and bitch at me.
She was completely unaware. This doesn’t surprise me; early in our marriage she had my birthday confused with someone else’s. Uh, her previous love interest and father of the two oldest children. His is on the 18th. I just thought she was giving me my present early…..
Since she had no clue, it’s highly unlikely that without her suggestion they would think to call me. That hurt my feelings. And it still does. The whole day has been a never-ending ride on this fucking roller coaster, and I’m tired of it. They may never understand why I left their mother; in their eyes I am always going to be the bad guy.
But, what matters is the person–or people–who did remember. The Dude gave me a movie for my birthday, and he did call me today. Not to wish me happy birthday, but to ask me computer questions. But he called, so it counts. Plus, the one kid I have that I haven’t scarred for life–Detroit’s son Alex called me and wished me happy birthday. I really wish I could be his father.
And Detroit herself. Made me a cake, bought ice cream, and we went to out to eat and to the movies. Hell, if I play my cards right, I might even get lucky tonight.
But the thing about it is…I’m different. I am a loner. I don’t quite fit in. I didn’t quite fit in with my family, and now I guess I really don’t. I don’t seem to fit in with the shills at work either. My angst about all of this is related to a need to belong, and I can’t. I don’t. I’ve always been a basically happy person. No, I’ve always been basically a moody person. No, I’ve always been basically a loner. No, I’ve always been–
Christ, what a time for an identity crisis. Well, I wanted something special for my birthday. But my point really is that, through all this crap, the one steady thing I have in my life is Detroit (for those of you who are new or stupid, I mean the person, not the city). I’ve run out of words describing how wonderful she is to me, for me. I’m okay being alone from everyone else, as long as I have her.
What the hell, I’m going to include a brief snippet of my rant from earlier today, wherein I describe the perfect birthday:
As soon as I wake up, there’s somebody RIGHT there, waiting. They yell, "Happy Birthday!" then force you to get up and get dressed, and take you on a whirlwind trip of fun and excitement and possible danger, all in the name of celebration.
A quick stop at the liquor store on the way out to an airstrip, so you can drink while getting fitted for a parachute. Then you skydive, and land in the parking lot of a strip club. After you pole dance and then get a lap dance, it’s off to the firing range. ..on a dirt bike. After shooting at things you shouldn’t shoot at, you’re off to a parade, in your honor. Oh, and you get to drive one of those go-carts the shriners drive! Then, lunch at Hooters.
This is all before noon. Then you take a nap. When you wake up, cake and ice cream and water skiing.