Birthday Pains

I've been stretching the truth a little in my profile until now--today is actually when I turn 26. It's the first birthday I almost forgot...and sort of wish I did.

Never thought I'd be one of those people who get all depressed and morose on their birthday. Looking back, I guess it's been a natural progression for me. While I never had any grand delusions that I would be saving the world by now, I did expect to be doing something worthwhile. Instead I sit in limbo, waiting: waiting to get enough money to pay off my student loans, waiting to get my life back on track, waiting for those words I long to hear from my father's radiation oncologist that the cancer is gone. So much waiting...and only 26 damn years old.

In birthdays past I would celebrate with friends and family by seeing a Broadway show (front row, of course) and visiting my friend Bob at the Encore restaurant in the Marriott Marquis. This year I have no money, nearly all my friends have moved out of state, and neither of my parents are in any physical condition to celebrate. So now I celebrate the only way I can--with a deep dish pizza and a blog post.

I know I sound bitter and self-pitying, and maybe to a degree I am. But while I've learned to adapt to any situation quickly, embracing change has never been a strong point for me. Now I'm another year older, nothing is how I envisioned it five years ago, and the road ahead is rocky at best and a nightmare at worst. 26...and I feel like 50.

Ah, well. Maybe next year the Broadway lights will sparkle again.