Tuesday, November 12, 2002

After great pain, a formal feeling comes
All in all, I'd call the weekend a success. Matt and Laurie had a beautiful wedding, Theron and I got in some good hangtime, and the family had a nice birthday brunch for my nephew and I on Sunday. In typical Terry fashion, gifts were exchanged, happy wishes were given, but there were no elaborate productions. No funny hats, no balloon animals, no scary clowns. It's as it should be. Just good food, family, friends, and presents. Especially presents. My brother got me a couple of Warren Zevon albums (including one that's out of print), and I found out that my niece really likes Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner, while my parents got me a fleece vest and a Wusthof drop-point paring knife. My music geek, food geek, and knife geek were all made very happy.

That was Sunday, though. My actual birthday was on Friday. It turned out to be one of those hyper-social days where people were constantly in and out of my cubicle, I got taken out to lunch, and there was cake. It might actually be fair to say that the folks at work made a bigger deal about my birthday than my family did. Like I already said, I was raised in a 'birthdays are no big deal' family, so I'm much more comfortable getting a quick 'happy birthday' then getting on with my life, but free food is always good, so I'm not complaining.

But something, somewhere in all of it must have hit me wrong, because I had a raging migraine by the time I got home from work. So I spent my birthday night laying on the couch hallucinating and listening to music. If you disregard the sensation of molten lead being poured into your eye socket, it's not a bad way to spend the evening, really.

It fits, actually. Last year, I talked to Carrie on my birthday, and we had the "Am I kidding myself when I hope we might get back together?" conversation (turned out I was). It was intense, and painful, but it was also honest and kind, and I felt ready to get on with my life when it was over.

Friday night, my mind mulled over the last year and flushed out some of the nastiness that had been building up. I also had a nice (albeit too brief) talk with Ryan, who I haven't seen since his funeral almost five years ago. I woke up on the couch about one, mostly pain-free, and staggered back to the bedroom. When the sun came through my window in the morning, the pain was gone, and so was a lot of weight I'd been carrying around without even realizing it.

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