they know your mom fucked you up

today i feel: uncomfortable
today i'm hearing: old mix tapes strewn across itunes
today i'm thinking: i want it to be tuesday

It's almost my birthday. That's...exciting, I guess. My birthday is one of those things that I feel rather uncomfortable about it. You see (and many of you have already heard this, so feel free to tune out), my birthday is a rather cursed day and has, in fact, been so since I was, oh, about six. We should've known this birthday thing was a bad call right after I was born. It was, I believe, the hottest August on the record and upon leaving the hospital, we had to go live at my grandparents' house because our house didn't have air conditioning and I would've, quite literally, died. But the Palm Family is not renowned for understanding divine clues, so we proceeded.

Thus, as earlier stated, the tragedy of my birthday officially started when I was six. When I was first born, we had two cats: Monkey and Kahlua. They were sisters and both pretty cool, though Monkey was mentally retarded due to an accident following her birth (getting kicked off of a water bed by your own mother does something to your ego). Kahlua disappeared for a while and we ended up getting another cat, Morgan (also quite awesome), but then she showed back up. So I basically grew up with these three cats and my very favourite of the three was Kahlua. Well...Kahlua got sick around the time I was six. And we had to put her to sleep. ...On my birthday. Well, instead of being honest, my da didn't tell me what happened to Kahlua. I think he said something stupid like, 'Oh, she went on a trip,' but I knew. Oh, did I know. Dead cat. Birthday. Gee, thanks, Mum and Da. That's awesome.

Ever since then, tragedy has seemed to follow my birthday much like hobos follow freight trains. Most often, this is realised through people going into, being in, or leaving the hospital (my grandpa had a heart attack scare, my mother had surgery, my other grandpa had a bipass or something, my da had surgery, etc). This has made for some extra-awkward birthday parties where we're all sitting at the table eating cake and no one is talking because Mum's got a giant cone around her throat. Yeah... Awkward.

I had a two-year streak of good birthdays: sixteen and seventeen. Those were awesome. My sixteenth birthday was just really pleasant and fun; my seventeenth birthday I was in England (how can you fuck that up??). But if last year was any indication, my birthdays are back and badder than ever. So this year I decided to leave. Just don't be home on your birthday. Be anywhere else. Don't even tell anyone. Just go somewhere with people you like, hang out, drink copiously, and go to bed. It'll be great. So that's what I intend to do FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

But there is, of course, a catch. And I didn't even realise there could be a catch. The catch is this: what about the people who actually want to spend your birthday with you?

Now I'm not talking about my family; oh no. Grandpa can't remember my birthday anymore, Grandma doesn't remember what we're doing while we're doing it, Mum is crazy, and Da just doesn't care. No, I'm talking about my friends. I didn't realise there was any sort of interest in my birthday until last year. Now there seems to be this underground campaign to make my birthday un-sucky. I respect the effort, I really do. But there seems to be this whole thing where all the people who want to make my birthday un-sucky are of such an eclectic assortment that I cannot for the life of me fathom them all being in the same room at the same time. I can hardly believe they're all living on the same planet.

But now I feel obligated. Because they're all so dedicated to The Cause. And I don't want to upset that, you know? Especially since it's all for my benefit and stuff.

So I'm vaguely thinking about having some sort of 'thing'. Not a party; I hate parties. Just a...thing. You know? But the more I think about this Birthday Thing the more I feel that this would be the most awkward occasion in the history of mankind. What would everyone talk about? What would we do? I don't know how to do any sort of group activity; I'm a hermit. And they don't like the same kinds of movies or restaurants or music or anything. How could this be at all successful??

The moral of this story: Kiri's birthday should stop existing simply so that she can avoid all tragedy and awkward parties. Now if the universe could just arrange that, that would be super-good. It could be my birthday gift!

Jesus. I feel like Garfield. Go do your homework, Kiri.