I turned 24 in February, but I have no pictures to prove it and I got writer’s block because I didn’t have anything interesting to say about it. But I can’t not write about my birthday—the only holiday all about my life—on the only blog all about my life. So here we are almost a month later, and uh, I guess I have some thoughts about my age?
The best part was reading and hearing everyone’s birthday wishes to me, which all went kind of like this:
Happy Birthday! I am so proud of you! Look at all the things you have accomplished since last year!
I love you!
And they are all 100% correct to point out that I’ve accomplished a lot since my 23rd birthday. Because I was a hot mess last year.
Last year, I had my birthday dinner at Chipotle because I was too overwhelmed by New York to find a restaurant. And I couldn’t even find the Chipotle because I didn’t understand that Broadway and West Broadway are two totally different (stupidly named) streets. After dinner, I dragged Anda to find a dress with me and then cried outside Bloomingdale’s because “all those dresses are so ugly! I can’t even afford them, but I just don’t understand why there are no good dresses anywheeeeeere” (sorry, A).
A few days later I had a nice birthday party thanks to my friends, in our tiny apartment filled with flowers. And a year later, somehow I ended up 24 with a CSA share and a membership to the YMCA. I knew how I wanted to celebrate my birthday and what I wanted to wear, but it didn’t hit me until I was having dinner. I looked around and saw almost all the friends who were at my 23rd party (plus two of my new roommates). And I realized most of them had been at other birthday parties of mine!
Marissa at my 10th birthday sleepover in Texas. Jess at a surprise party for my 18th at Spiral Diner. Anda threw me the best party on the 19 bus for my 19th. Tasha showed up to my 23rd Chipotle birthday meltdown with a pink rhinestone piggy bank, and here she was at my 24th with a stack of party hats and a pink tinsel tiara for me. On and on around the table.
Growing up, I always imagined my ‘adult life’ like this: living in a city, full-time job, regular-status at a coffee shop. But I didn’t know I’d get to keep my friends.
I’ve known most of them since I was 18 or younger. That’s 6 years or more of shared history! In multiple cities. (Woah.)
So, if you’re reading this, whether we were together in real life or through technology/our hearts/whatever, I hope you know that you’re my favorite birthday present. The gift that keeps on giving. The present that always fits just right, etc. etc. I love you!