some guy (self) wrote,
some guy
self

  • Mood:

transition

I woke up this morning and reached for the pile of intimidating things I haven't been dealing with. That was my first instinct, but then I glanced at my e-mail, and now I'm torn. See, doing something productive gives me purpose. It would be a relief to make some headway, providing a window to guilt-free happiness. And for whatever reason, I feel ready to tackle that today. But then the birthday thing pulls at me - I should do something special, and set my sights a little higher.

I no longer participate in the old traditions of inviting people I kind of get along with to the bowling alley or skating rink so they'd feel obligated to make their parents buy me the latest toys. (When does that end? I guess when the parents leave the equation, and your friends are financially responsible for the presents. When they're asked to spend real money to prove they still like you, friendships get evaluated differently. And one way or the other, your indoctrination into consumerism is complete.)

Well. That paragraph took a rather morbid turn. It was only meant to illuminate the fact that I need to rethink the whole birthday concept. I keep forgetting I even have a birthday, because I've abandoned more or less everything I associate with it.

And I think I'd be fine with that, but the signs say it's time to stretch out a bit.

So, as I type this, my brother pops up on AIM with the right answer.

    ego: Do you have glasses yet? Do you feel comfortable driving down? We could go get some dinner, then head back here and have cake or something. Maybe Id can join us*2.
    self: I do have glasses. Won't know how comfortable I am making the trek until I try it.
    ego: I'm in the mood for some Caroline's Special*1, how about you?
    self: Always!
    ego: Cool. So you up for this?
    self: Definitely.
*1:Caroline's Special is a rigatoni dish with pepperoni and sausage and melted cheese. It's the logical hybrid of pizza and pasta, and it's the most decadent thing this side of San Diego. If you're in Southern California for any reason, you can find it at Villa Sorrento.

*2:Id is on a diet which won't even allow for this. And the ghost of Sigmund Freud is sitting next to me, laughing his head off.

Okay, the restaurant being closed on Sundays probably works against us. But I'm going to pretend I didn't notice that, and see where the day takes me.
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