The first week of October is always meaningful to me as it cradles my birthday. While this was cause for celebration as a kid, it was still a little uneasy as the party had to coordinate with the first weeks of school, the upcoming Halloween parties had parents strapped for how much $$ they could give their kids for fun in the month, and my Dad's bday at the end of the month somehow trumped mine - maybe pool parties were just that much more fun with alcohol.
These days its cause for company lunches, the deciding if three weeks of kissing up will give me enough cash from Dad to warrent such manipulative behaviors, and the occasional monumental earth shattering cathartically enlightening mental breakthrough about the consequences of today on tomorrow. While this ranges from deciding to recycling is SO necessary for me to be a worthy human being (age 15) to knowing that my world will never be the same as I am legally responsible for myself and my parents involvement in any subsquent encounters with the law will be strictly voluntary (age 18) to understanding that life moves pretty fast if you don't watch it and there will be a day when the excuse of 'young and stupid' will sound just plain stupid (age 25).
This year I found no need for the freak out phase of the beginning of October, a serious lack of desire to essentially beg and plead for $100 from Dad, and an overall comfort with having a Friday birthday and no plans besides Tivo, tequila shots, the dog at my feet, and the phone at my side just in case. Oh, and that all the roomates were out celebrating another worthy occassion made the dancing in front of the salt shaker that much more of a true expression of me - the ultimate reason to celebrate a birthday!!
Seriously, if you think about the etimology of why its such a special day, it seems a little strange that to this day we find it necessary to throw a party in celebration that we are alive one more year - especially after all the biggies in puberty. I have a cousin who had a second baby boy who was allergic to everything they tried to feed him for a year. Thats right folks - he didn't eat without getting some form of severe allergic reaction for a whole year right out of the chute. So for his first birthday to come around was a B I G D E A L!!! For me, a kid who was so spoiled she thought not getting a second virgin margarita with dinner was being deprived, its hardly a miricle of life - let alone cause for the townfolk to rejoice - to turn 26. (Not that being treated to lunch isn't setting me up for a great day, but come on; they look for reasons to break out of the cubes and meet the people on the other side of the grey padded wall and birthdays happen just often enough to not strain anyone's monotonous isolation long enough for us to realize that there are real people on the other side of the walls we decorate with flare to prove to ourselves we haven't become the drones society complains about.)
However, this time of year is my favorite time of year for another reason; autumn. There is something so fantasitically indulgent about flannel PJs, socks to hang out in the house comfortably, having to close the window a little at night, remembering why you have those drawers of sweaters, and dew on your car in the morning. Its that first day when you leave work and there is no humid heat hanging over the day - there is a distinct crispness of the air that reminds you that being outdoors does not necessitate sweat. Its the time of year when we start to stay inside more. We remember that home is where the heart is. We start decorating and spending money on the people and places we love. We are eased into the holidays where sharing and caring are no longer convenient but necessary. Not that I live for Christmas or anything (actually I boycotted last year and it was Awsome!!!) but I do live for the ideas that people seem to adopt this time of year - appreciate what you've got, love the people you've got, be kind to others, and recieve from others graciously and without question.
Alrighty, time to get back to work. Its another day in a shared grey cube with bad lighting and no window with a massive (I'm not kidding, I have feet of paperwork in my inbox here) stack of busywork that was such a repugnent project for the staff they hired a temp to do it. That'd be me. They keep telling me its job security; which leaves me no motivation to get it done actually. And with the nip at my nose these mornings, and the dog at my feet, and the blankets stacked just thick enough, its hard to get here in the first place. I don't even go home at lunch much anymore just so I don't get tempted to stay there and wrap up in a blanket on the back porch with a cup of honeyd tea and watch the grass grow and the leaves turn... the daydream has started... I can file in peace again...
Her Mind's I