The Birthday Weekend Wrap-up .

The Good: Got notice that I received a scholarship for my third year. It isn't much, but every bit helps. Struck up a gchat conversation with my current crush, The Wee One. I was a bit drunk when I did it, but it was so early in the day that it would have been garish for her to assume as much. The Wee One is 28 - which doesn't help me. But she's also really tiny, so, I don't know if that helps or not, but it seems like it should. I have at least 6 inches on her, so if you gives me 2 inches for every year, we're about even. No phone calls or bodily fluids have been exchanged - just a few rounds of repartee. She is clever that one. I also got the Ego Stroke of the Month on the 4th at a friend's bbq. I think at least three of the pretty babies were digging my shit. Of course, I played the awkward shy guy, because well, it felt natural. Anyways, my shit was dug, which was a great independence-day-pick-me-up from the pile of crap that was the 3rd.

The Bad: My actual birthday was a shitshow. I was miserable all day. I couldn't stop thinking about how much shit I don't have together right now, how lonely I consistently am and how unaccomplished I really am. The workday was a flood of realizations of what a bad friend I regularly am. I was mopey as hell because so many people didn't remember my birthday, yet I remember almost no one's birthday, let alone message the people facebook reminds are having birthdays. I never call anyone or do anything thoughtful for them, and I rarely let my friends know how much I care about them, which begs the question whether I actually do, yet another shitty thing to think about. Law school has been an incredibly selfish experience in a lot of respects, and it goes without saying that that is really lame.

Anyways, after beating myself up all day about what a terrible fucking person I am, I made another brilliant decision: I allowed myself to be talked into going to a local watering hole instead of sitting at home all night drinking Black Velvet, playing FIFA '06, and listening to Get Up Kids records. After the friends had bought a few rounds, things start to get hazy. I vaguely remember beginning to sob uncontrollably at my barstool. I was later told that I was pretty good for a second about keeping it discreet. But crying in a bar can only go unnoticed for so long I suppose. I was "carried home" and unceremoniously dumped onto my bed with a cup full of water and a bottle of Bayer on my table, which was a strange scene to wake up to because I usually get too far in the bag to remember to lay out such luxuries by myself. I'm coping with 25 - but I really don't like it.

And dwarfing all my petty concerns about growing up and getting my shit together, my friend's mother passed away over the weekend, and just thinking about what she's going through right now makes me want to cry and drink at the same time and the only problem is deciding which to do first. I didn't know her mother, I think I only met her once. But the idea that someone I know, like, and respect is having to deal with what I am certain is one of the worst experiences someone can go through makes my heart ache and serves as a reminder as to just how silly and inane most of my grievances with life are. Gah.

The Ugly: I shaved my beard. And on the morning of the 5th, I woke up on the living room couch, TV on, and two bags of Jack in the Box sitting in front of me: one empty, the other not.