I went shopping yesterday, picking up a couple of books at B. Dalton's. It was a "everything must go" sale and while there were slim pickings, I managed to score Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII by David Starkey and a copy of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, the so-called "Deathbed Edition."
I also bought myself a cute, swishy black skirt! Which is unusual for me, as I don't do dresses or skirts. It's for my birthday though, which is actually only a month away. I'm turning 21.
I don't know what to feel about that.
I mean...birthdays are supposed to be fun and be all about the parties, although most of my birthdays have been...odd. My best birthdays are when I'm not home: three of them have been celebrated in Florida, and one of them was lost over the Alantic ocean when I left for Spain and France on my 18th birthday and arrived in Europe hours later to realize my birthday was now over.
So I've been lucky to spent some amazing birthdays in great places. Disney. Spain (where my dad's family originated). And then there are the meh ones.
For my 17th birthday, I was at rehersal for a school musical and when I got home, my mom was out, taking my sisters out to dinner. So I got to eat leftovers by myself. What really sucked was that none of my high school friends had bothered to decorate my locker, which is sort of traditional at my school. That hurt.
So basically, if I'm not travelling, I don't really celebrate my birthdays.
This time, however, I'd like to actually do something. Go out. Party. Not get drunk, because I really hate the taste of alcohol, but enjoy myself.
However the problem is that my birthday's on the 16th, which is a Monday. Not really the best day to "do something." I've been thinking about going out on Valetine's Day, which is a Saturday, maybe clubbing. Man, I just need to do something this time. My family's going to celebrate on Sunday, as my mom works late on Mondays and she wants to take me out to a Spanish place for dinner. Which I don't mind. :-)
I do honestly feel now that I've written this out, I'll actually do it. I have a cute skirt, dammit. I'm going to be twenty-one. I should fucking celebrate.