Again, I wrote this much earlier the last week of July, thinking I’d make a video of it. I tend to procrastinate too much. So here is the belated update on my birthday festivities:
It’s been nearly a week since my birthday celebration with friends and I still wish it just didn’t end. However, I must apologize in advance for not writing anything new in a month due to birthday festivities and a bunch of other things involving karaoke, cake, trials and constant errors of job hunting, Doctor Who, and getting ready for the next science fiction convention Shoreleave this weekend.
Anyway, a funny thing happened whilst enjoying my last precious days of being in my mid-twenties. Make that a few funny things along the way, if I might add.
The first being ambushed by friends I thought were non responsive to my invites, or those who took constant rain checks. I had a funny feeling my Mardi Gras/ Christmas in July/ New Year’s birthday (that’s really what it felt like) would just be spent alone at home with my mother doing nothing. But when I rang in my new year at karaoke the night before my birthday, I found it hard to not smile.
The night of karaoke, one of my friends asked me to marry him… jokingly, of course. I laughed, though in my mind I wanted to say, uhhh, yeah… not sure yet…
The night of my birthday, I had the best time with my best friend, her boyfriend and her friend in a very long time. I don’t think I felt that elated since Kerensa’s Halloween house bash in 2012 when I dressed as a zombie bachelorette. Not like my 21st birthday, but not bad.
And also the night of my birthday, a guy I hadn’t seen in two years treated me like a lady. He was actually the first guy to do such a thing in God knows how long it’s been. I’ve had a big number of jerks and very few gentlemen as dates, not including my last ex-boyfriend from the depths of the tundra. Not one of them was as cool as this guy. Plus he could do a freaking awesome impression of Inspector Gadget from the Cartoon Network show.
Right now, I am making plans for Shoreleave, pack of Jammie Dodgers from Wegmans in one hand, and debating which dress I should wear at Ten Forward on Saturday. I have a bunch of old songs from college stuck in my head, plus a relatively new Plain White T’s single (“I should have just gone to bed” –story of every late night I have, I love you, Tom Higgenson!), and amongst all that, thoughts of that unforgettable evening won’t desist yapping in my ears.
So yeah, if I could do my birthday night all over again, I would do it all over again. But this time, go somewhere else where the drinks aren’t so severely priced.
Other than that, the countdown has officially begun until the first new episodes of Doctor Who air. My friend, the one who does the Inspector Gadget impression, says he wants to take me to see the first Peter Capaldi episode at the theatre. We’re both excited because we’re both Whovians, him a longer one than I’ve been one, for he’s a huge fan of the Second Doctor, the late Patrick Troughton.
Still, I’m trying to place him. Would he be a better Second, Tenth, or Eleventh Doctor? He may not pass for David Tennant for his hair’s too curly and not spikey like Tennant’s. Maybe the Second, he’s got a recorder, but he may also pass for an adorable Eleven with a red bow tie and a fez. No, Eleventh with a purple suit, black bow tie, like in my favorite season seven episodes “Hide” and “Nightmare in Silver.”
I have a little bit of a clue as to what I’m feeling and I’m sure it’ll wear off in a few weeks. Until I do get this mood over with and I finally see the new season of the new Twelfth Doctor, I will try not to get derailed from writing. I’m currently composing a new playlist and trying to figure out what to do with my grandmother’s birthday money. I’ll let you know how it all turns out.
And somebody please get me writing again! I’m at least 4,000 words behind on my goal for Camp Writing Month! Dehhhhhhhhhgh!
Music from my college years:
…and up to now:
My favorite Imelda May record:
What do you think the Twelfth’s catchphrase will be? “I wonder…” -Troughton, “Web of Fear”