sometimes i am overwhelmed by the outpouring of support i receive from comments in my journal. thank you, everyone, for reading and thinking and feeling and writing.
my mother always ensured that i had incredible birthday parties, when i was younger. for each party there would be a theme and handmade favors. she made puppets, theatre-masks, backpacks with each attendee’s name embroidered on them, overalls personalized with stencils … not to mention the elaborate, delicious birthday cakes. in junior high and high school she rented out places like the roller rink or the community center and we would throw huge bashes and she still managed to make party favors for everyone, even though she worked two jobs and was involved in countless theatrical projects. i grew up with the firm belief that birthdays are important, that saying “hey, i’m glad i was born” is a sentiment that should be expressed, every single year.
in recent years, i haven’t had big parties. sometimes i haven’t had a party at all. i miss them, you know? i miss all the fuss made over me; i miss the one-night carte blanche, diplomatic immunity from insecurity or self-loathing.
(but what i really want is a surprise party. o, this is terrible of me to mention here but i can’t hold back any longer. i’m desperate to be surprised with a party. half of me waits around until the last minute to plan anything for my birthday because i expect a surprise. that’s not a surprise, is it? well, it’s ridiculous, whatever it is.)
this year, i’m not hesitating. i’m having a party and that’s that. i don’t know where, or how, and i have to pull it all together in three weeks, but i’m determined.
so … any suggestions?