The Annual Reflective Birthday Post

My 27th year was the year I finally came to the end of the rope that had been slipping through my fingers for 8 years. Bouncing and bouncing from project to project, job to job, relationship to relationship, trying to stay a step ahead of my misery. I guess this spring was the beginning of sitting down with the misery and trying to figure out where it's coming from.

Actually, sitting down with the misery makes it sound like it was a choice. More like I fell down hard and couldn't get back up.

But in this mystery me and my fellow detectives have already come up with some likely suspects. Well, we've all but got them convicted if you must know.

So close to thirty, and my friend tells me thirty is so much easier than twenty-something. So close to thirty, and everyone I date is younger than me. When did I turn into the village skeeze? And who are these people dating me, the almost thirty year old who writes a blog about being miserable? Why is no one warning these young people about red flags?

Another Self Help Exercise

I love that anger book, but whenever I say I'm going to do something on this blog it means I will not do it. So when I said I would work through that book on this blog you should've seen the doors slamming shut on the possibility of it. But here's another self help exerice, from the book "Curious? Discover the Missing Ingredient to a Fulfilling Life" by Todd Kashdan, Ph.D.

(I'm comforted to learn I am only missing one ingredient.)

(I am not comforted by the back of the book, which reads "Embrace Uncertainty. Attract Love and abundance. Master your life." Back up! That's way too ambitious- why can't someone write a byline like "Spend your day out of bed and speak to people who aren't your roommate's dog.")

Dr. Kashdan gave me a list of values to pick 10 from, and then rank the 10 as 1,2, or 3. 1 is most important. 2 is less important. 3 is EVEN LESS important than 2. Everyone still with me?

Here are my rankings:

Health 1
Purpose 1
Genuineness 1
Contribution 1
Knowledge 2
Achievement 2
Humor 2
Stability 3
Faithfulness 3
Cooperation 3

How am I supposed to use this list? That's a great question, and one I did not read the book carefully enough to answer. Maybe I'm supposed to double check my choices by asking if they fit with the values on the list? That's probably it.

(Reading comprehension is not a value on my list.)

The song of the day is "The Boxer" due to Lee Dewyze singing it on American Idol.



Guys- I'm like that poor boy! I seek out the poorer quarters (cheap living situations) that only the ragged people know! Even though I've never ridden a train, I've spent a lot of time at Greyhound Stations. It's like he wrote the song about me. I am leaving, I am leaving, but the Carrie still remains.

I'm not supposed to be here

I'm supposed to be Etta James, and somehow I got here instead.



That's how my voice sounds in my head.

I haven't yet had a significant ex get married, but it sounds awful. I guess everyone waits longer nowadays, so there's less likelihood someone's gonna go from "your man" to marrying someone else without giving you a break to catch your breath. But it's happened to some people I've known- friends of friends of friends, because a story like that will make the rounds.

The perfect foil song to this is "I was just Walking out the Door" by Wynn Stewart, in which your ex reached out to you on your wedding day. What perfect, sweet revenge, except who's this other dude you have to spend your whole life with?

But I would be remiss to leave the theme of exes moving on in the past, since Ne-yo did a "You're married and I'm not!" song called "Do You?" Although in Ne-yo's song his former lady is engaged, not married, and she has a little girl. Lusting after a little kid's mom makes it all the more modern and problematic.




I guess a wedding nowadays just isn't the same slamming shut the doors of romantic possibility. Good for us.

I think I'm in love with Justin Bieber

His smooth, hairless face. His perfectly coiffed shag. His ellen-ripped off style. Whew. I'm pretty hot and bothered over him. (Him?)



When do sneaks officially become uncool? When do they lose any credibility as a symbol of knowledge of urban culture?

Oh wait, maybe I'm not in love with him at all.



I hate the shit out of video games. Like, my skin crawls when I see a controller. And if Justin is actually a teen boy who plays video games, and not an adult lesbian, I don't want anything to do with him. Even if he is best friends with Usher.

(Every time he puts his arm around a girl, it looks like the first time he's ever done that.)

Maybe I'm really revisiting the fantasy of the middle school boyfriend. God that would've been sweet. All my boyfriends later in life- well, what kind of affirmation were they? They didn't make me feel special and unique, the way a Justin Bieber character would've. They mostly made me feel dumb for not knowing bands and getting hung up on plans we made. You know Justin wouldn't cancel on your friday night plans after 9. Mostly because that's his curfew.

In Palm Springs

A crazy, crazy thing: my life in Chicago has almost completely fallen apart. I spent the first part of the week viciously depressed- you know, crying before your head is off the pillow in the morning, feeling your body as heavy and sludge-filled, wandering around the neighborhood all zombied out.

And now I'm in Palm Springs for work, in a really nice hotel room, surrounded by really, really hot people.

That also means I flew over the Rockies, which looked incredible. They looked more like mountains than anything I've ever seen (that's a swipe at the Appalachians). And Palm Springs is in the desert, and there are big beautiful mountains surrounding this resort town. I want to climb one of these mountains, and look at the golf courses, wind farms, and big orange desert.

I'll try and get on a good hike before this trip is done.

I want to see real mountains and rivers and big canyons and whatever else I've seen on stamps. I want to visit all the cities filled with total strangers. I want to be surprised at how it's all exactly like I've seen on tv. I want to be reminded- statistically, no one even knows these people I know who give me trouble.

I want to see everything outside of Logan Square, Chicago Illinois.

This is definitely what I feel like:



But whatever. You win Chicago, you totally, completely, kicked my ass every which way. You kicked my ass so hard I got used to it then forgot you were kicking my ass, at which point you upped the ante and reminded me, oh no, there is a serious ass kicking going on and you are most definitely the victim of it. I could cry about how hard I tried to get you to stop kicking my ass, how creative I was at finding new spots to hide from your ass-kicking, but frankly, all I can do is stand back and admire the artistry of your full on assault. This was not a fight, this was a bloodbath.

Pass the ice pack.