Last Week #24 | Waiting for Waffles

When you hear the words "there's a 45 minute wait for waffles,"at 11:30 am on a Sunday when you haven't eaten anything yet, it doesn't really inspire courage. Or patience.

This week was a lot of valley, with Peaks in sight. I got a lot of news-- the apartment will be getting brand new cabinets, you have 5 assignments due October 3rd, your birthday is next week, and oh yeah, the official move-in date is October 1st. By Saturday, I was a hurricane of emotions. As I had to assure Eli, it wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened, and suddenly I was too overwhelmed to even spend time with him. Figuring out the logistics of where we were going to go was too much, so I sent him home, felt guilty, laid in my bed, watched my favorite movie, and cried. 

There's been so much happening lately, I think it all just caught up to me, and I couldn't even give love to the person I love the most, because I hadn't given enough love to me.


My birthday is tomorrow, and I don't feel ready for my it. I don't ever, really. I mean, who feels ready to face the fact that another year has gone by and what have they done with it and also they're one year closer to death?! Certainly not me. But I'm also not ready for the disappointment. I mean, really. Who decided it was a good idea for everyone to have one specific day each year that they can pin all their idyllic birthday hopes and dreams on? It's practically guaranteed to be a letdown. And it's, again, not anyone's fault. It's the system's fault. (F*ck the system, man.) Each year, my birthday feels a lot like waiting 45 minutes for waffles. Exasperating, and at the end someone usually does something wrong, like gives you vanilla instead of chocolate ice cream on top. Listen, this isn't meant to be some white girl's first-world-problems post about how she hates her birthday because she never got a pony. (Truth be told, I never wanted a pony. My biggest dream was to get a portable DVD player with the Gilmore Girls boxed set and be left alone to watch it in my room.) No, maybe I just don't know how to have a good birthday.

Case in point: last weekend, I had an early birthday celebration with Eli's family, and I was holding back tears the entire time. Not because it wasn’t nice, but because it was, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I thought a lot about how a person becomes who they are. Suddenly, without knowing it, these random people just understand your aesthetic and you become known for a purple flower and brownie pie. I still don’t understand family, because mine is not what I ever expected, or, if we’re being honest, what I hoped for. It’s more, and it’s less. It’s disappointing and it’s more than I’d ever imagined. So I don't know what to expect from tomorrow, but I've decided not to make a big deal of it. Last year, the 19th was way better than the 20th. My friends threw a party for me, and as I drove home in the rain with the boy I really, really liked in the passenger seat, I started to cry because it had been too perfect. 

"So maybe I don't want the perfect birthday, because I probably wouldn't be able to handle it anyway." I think to myself negatively as I write this at 8:50 on a Monday morning. And then I realize that is exactly what my astrologer was talking about when she said I needed to let go, and open my heart and deal with Chiron and shit. Maybe I need to let go of the bad birthday archetype I have in my head, and open myself up to it being whatever it's gonna be. Okay, that was a more positive ending, right? 

 -Fran