Sunday, December 01, 2013

Venting -- or Ranting

I'm going to vent a little bit here on non-perfume-related stuff, personal stuff, expectations and whatnot. Bear with me. And please don't unfollow me after because I do this venting thing so rarely, especially since I don't have the clacker living above my head anymore ~ haha!

First of all, my birthday. Swept by as if it never happened at all, which in the grand scheme of things is a good thing, right? Who wants to be reminded they're getting old? But here's where I'm going to gripe a bit -- don't tell me you got me a great gift, something I've been wanting for a long, long time, then spend the entire afternoon of my birthday arguing with the post office, the shipping company (starts with an F, ends with a X), and the company from which you purchased the gift (online through their instant message system whilst pounding on the keyboard as if you were attempting to split it in half with your thumbs) and then nonchalantly say to me once it's solidified that said gift ain't comin', "It was a _______, I know you really wanted one. But it's the thought that counts, right?" Now, all of that would be okay, except for one teeny, tiny, itty, bitty issue -- you did nothing afterwards. No token gift, no mini shopping spree with the money that was returned from the gift that never arrived -- nothing. Oh, a bit of lamenting that you now have only .37 cents left in your account (slight exaggeration there) to live on until whenever. And moving on from that one, there are those who say weeks leading up to my birthday, "We're going to do (this) for your birthday! I'm so excited! We're going to have so much fun!" And then nothing happens. Said fun never commences. Now, I get that there are all kinds of extenuating circumstances preventing such events from occurring, I get that, and I also come from an upbringing where personal holidays, i.e., your birthday, were not cause for celebration but instead cause for making the stepdad spend money he didn't want to spend, y'know, for frivolous stuff, like a cake, a gift -- or forcing him to acknowledge that the day wasn't about him and he might be expected to think about someone other than himself for a change. Can't have that. So birthdays growing up were not looked upon with expectation and joy. Hell, one year when my birthday fell on Thanksgiving, my gift was a chocolate pie! Because they had forgotten. Because they knew there had to be at least a token bit of acknowledgement involved, so pie it was. (I totally related to Molly Ringwald in '16 Candles'.) In their defense, it was my favorite pie at the time -- chocolate pudding. And in some sense I was grateful my birthdays were low-key, as in, no big deal. I've never really liked big fusses. Perhaps that's why. I was ingrained with the idea that I'm not special in any way, shape or form. And to my shame, I might have done a little bit of this to my kids, with the lame line, "I should be getting something on your birthday, I did all the work!" Yeah, that was really stupid. I didn't mean it. I just thought it was funny. Apparently I was the only one laughing.

Now, having said all of that crap up there, I have to admit I am very, very blessed. I'm grateful for all that I have, even the trials and tribulations, because it was those things that made me who I am today. But sometimes, I'd like someone within my personal daily circle to treat me with the love and respect my friends do. If it weren't for my friends, I'd be a neglected mess ~ hahaha! I love my friends. I love my personal daily circle, too, but they can be such schmucks. And the real pisser is these people -- these people -- they get their knickers in knots over the most ridiculous stuff.

I won't go on. I think I'm done now. I just wanted to acknowledge these feelings, get them out there, perhaps poke a bit of fun. But I do want to end this rant-vent on this note: I love. I am grateful. I am happy.

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