The Crankiest Birthday

Usually when it is my birthday, I'm beyond excited. A whole day just for me! Forget whoever else was born that day, it's really just about me. Example: my usual tradition of wearing a tiara out and about on my celebration night. I go out to a bar, dolled up in the sparkliest dress I own (well, one of them), my outfit is completed with a faux diamond & pearl tiara. Throughout the night, as my grasp on reality slips,  people randomly start asking me if it's my birthday, and I'm genuinely surprised. How do they know?! Then I remember there's metal combs jabbing into my head, impeding me from hair whipping while advertising my Princess-status.

Last year I did something new, though. I gave my beautiful birthday tiara away. The "lucky" recipient was a tiny Asian girl, who happened to be celebrating her 19th birthday that night. There was much hugging and me saying things like "I remember my 19th birthday!!!" (though I don't really, because that was around the time I was pretending to be a wife and I've blocked a lot of that from my memory).

This year, I did not wear a tiara. I thought, 'Brittany. You're 25 now. You've passed on the tiara-torch.  Get it together.' So instead I wore a magical fish dress and launched myself into a giant Christmas tree downtown. Because that's infinitely more mature than wearing head-jewelry...

Anyway, that was the birthday party. Let me also say that I only cried once that night; hurrah! My actual birthday-day was a different story. I was tired, cranky, short-tempered and irritable (which is the same thing as cranky, I just like adjectives, ok?). I still don't know if it's the fact that I am older and am secretly depressed about it, or just that I am a sleep deprived ball of emotion lately.

I feel that 23 to 27 is basically all the same. You can get away with a lot in that time period, because you're young enough to be an idiot, but old enough to not be a complete and total idiot. Around 28 is when the mommy brain starts waking up and shit probably gets really complicated, but I don't want to think about that right now because babies are gross. So essentially, I'm not too fussed about turning 25 because not much is changing.

Oh, right, except that I'm saying good bye to all my friends here and packing up my personal effects so I can leave the country in 13 days, 1 hour, 13 minutes and 33...32...31 seconds. Not that I'm counting.

Saying goodbye is really a drag. For once in my life I wish I was crazy spontaneous and could just make a snap decision; getting everything done and leaving within 2 or 3 weeks. But this whole year-of-planning thing is really taking a toll. I feel like I've been PMSing for weeks; all my emotions are on over-drive and I can't stop eating. Or crying. Or being a sucky baby.

I guess I should be happy that I am so upset (< female logic). But really, if I was completely and totally happy to be leaving here, it would mean I have created a boring, impersonal life over the past 3.5 years. Which I am happy to say is not the case at all. There are people and memories here that I will treasure until I get old and Alzheimer's sets in. le sigh Anyhoo, I'm working on a picture-blog time-line-post that I'm sure only I will truly appreciate, but a picture is worth a thousand words, and frankly I'm tired of rambling about being an emotional wreck. Bring on the sunshine and lesbian hair cut already!!

Side Note: Even though I was a cranky bridge troll, I still had a fantastic birthday! I just wanted to seem dramatic. Weird, I know.