April 19th, 2004


Stop fighting fate.

In life, I guess it's important to refine your goals as you get older.

Elementary School Goal: Become a great actress. Or a cartoonist.

Middle School Goal: Become the first woman president and marry David Johnson. (Cute guy. Totally uninterested.)

High School Goal: Become a great writer.

College Goal: Become a brilliant professor. Get married, have children.

Grad School Goal: Ummm... not die?

Post-Grad School Goal: Get a master's of library science. Get married, have children.

New Goal: Have twenty cats.

No, really, I'm serious. I love kitties, and I think a house full of kitties will make me happy. Screw all that other stuff. I want kitties.

And getting to the twenty cats will give me goals. Like, if I want to have twenty cats I'm going to have to have money. Y'know, for vet bills and cat food and kitty treats. And a nice big house, because they're going to be indoor kitties. Yeah. I'll need a better job.

Help me name my twenty cats.

  • Current Mood
    depressed resigned

Birthdays suck.

Thursday is my birthday. I'll be 26.

Unfortunately, that means it's time for the obligatory yearly post in which I bitch about my birthday.

For the past several years, my birthday has generally been one of the worst days of the year.

Let's review:

2003 -- Was just getting started on The Breakup That Wouldn't End. Depressed, got trashed in Decatur and drunk-dialed and sounded like an idiot.

2002 -- I don't remember much about it, but I was in grad school so it must have sucked.

(Edit: Checked my LJ for that day. Yes, it did indeed suck. A lot.)

2001 -- The exception on this list. I met alanator for the first time. (I have to point this out because otherwise he'll make a bitchy comment about that birthday and was it one of my worst ones?)

2000 -- That year mostly sucked, so I'm pretty sure that birthday did too. (How the hell did I ever remember shit before I had an LJ?)

And then there are my personal favorite bad birthdays:

1994 -- Sweet Sixteen. The high-school boyfriend (the one whose name I won't even say) didn't even say 'happy birthday.' We were on a bus trip, and when I told him how mad I was, he turned on the waterworks until I was the one apologizing. I consider this the spot where the abuse started.

1997 -- First birthday away from home at college. My "best friends" (one of which had just taken over my boyfriend) took over my TV and VCR to watch "Top Gun," a movie I had no interest in seeing, because they knew I wouldn't stop them. I ended up in tears to my mom without even being sure why. This was enough for her to tell our family doctor to put me on the first round of antidepressants, so I guess it wasn't a complete loss after all.
  • Current Mood
    crappy crappy