Thursday, October 28, 2010


The heart warming color of "bleak gray", what I believe is a Crayola term, has finally settled in the skies over the Hoosier heartland. A friend of mine, who hails from Syracuse, New York and is only mildly familiar with the crazy weather patterns we worn and tested Indy natives are oblivious to, has pined for "fall weather" in the midst of record setting heat only two weeks out from Halloween. Welp - here ya go Dave.

But the chilling winds and Tim Burton-esque atmosphere can't trump my inner giddiness. After all, your birthday only comes once a year.

A year ago I was in the midst of a bad break up from someone I was secretly hoping I would marry. I hated (almost) everyone and (almost) everything, and at one point, during the coldest and darkest days of a rather harsh winter, was (almost) an alcoholic. My waist line receded after losing thirty pounds and I was relegated to watching "Coraline" and "Wall-E" while constantly feeling vulnerable.

Needless to say, Pete Wentz would have been proud.

It's amazing what a year does. I've always told my friends who found themselves in less than desirable circumstances to simply keep their chin up and let things "work themselves out" - whatever that means. Looking back I realize I didn't need an endless supply of whiskey sours, I just needed to take my own advice.

When I turned 21, I was rather gloomy. Sure the steak dinner I enjoyed with my parents for dinner was satisfying, but with the swirl of events that had happened recently left me bitter and wanting. I felt like I was deprived of something. The big bang I was hoping never arrived.

Last year I spent the whole day listening to P.J. Harvey songs about how tough living in New York City is - even though I've never been to New York City. This year? The Who's Quadrophenia - a rock opera about a boy who never finds satisfaction in anything then somehow finds it by learning to let go. Fitting don't you think?

My birthday marks the beginning of the Holiday season for me. Halloween is only a few days out (I'm dressing as Wall-E), and the warm spirited festivities of Thanksgiving and Christmas soon follow. Last year I spent the occasions held up in my parent's basement blogging about records no one cared about. I'll still be doing the same thing this year, I'll just be able to crawl out of my dude-hole and smile once and awhile.

I've often referenced an obscure Pete Townshend song through everything in the past year or so. It's called "I Am Secure", and more than ever - I am just that.

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