Birthdays, Fiona Apple & Welcoming October.

I remember in high school having a teacher who was 26. It’s funny, because you don’t realize how young that really is until you’re that age and you declare that it’s still really young because you don’t want to feel old.

Me, not crying on my birthday.

And as each calendar page falls to the floor, I hastily sweep away the reminders of the inevitable--that I am getting older. That I am now the age of my high school teacher. That I am four years away from 30.

Surprisingly, I’ve been taking 26 pretty well. Every year (and I mean it; every year) I cry on my birthday. Despite my excitement and joyful anticipation throughout September, once the 29^th arrives, I get overwhelmed with well-intended gestures of celebration. And suddenly, it all just hits me like a sad attempt at masking the fact that I am a year closer to death. It’s like a happy laugh that weirdly morphs into a soft cry because there’s just too much emotion happening. And then people are like, “Why are you crying?” and you’re laughing/sobbing like, “I don’t know! Life is weird!”

This year though, I didn’t cry. I got teary-eyed, but no sobbing occurred so I think I may finally be growing up some.

Look at the mixing and mingling happening at our table.

For my actual birthday, I went out to dinner with friends. This caused a great deal of anxiety for me considering I am probably the worst candidate to plan an outing suitable for twenty-somethings. I worried about friend mixing and awkward lulls in conversation and how I would somehow need to connect everyone. Despite all that, and the fact I was an hour late and we had to opt for some oddly close seating arrangements (thanks universe!) I had a good time. Even with my tendency to overcompensate an awkward silence by talking a little too much about things people care a little too little about (which would explain the 20 minute conversation about each partygoer’s cell phone history) I think (or hope) that everyone else had a good time as well.

Sunday, I went out to dinner with my parents and had to keep reassuring my mother I was not depressed. She had to keep checking her watch because to her, being out after 8 p.m. is basically the same as being a prostitute or night demon.

So, imagine that sign says, "Fiona Apple Live."

Monday, I saw Fiona Apple live and she was amazing. As usual, the universe had to plague me with some annoyance and this time it was in the form of a sassy guy who sat directly in front of me and made wild hand gestures as he sang along to the songs. So I spent a lot of the evening weaving and bobbing around his flailing arms and head to see Fiona, but luckily her performance outshone his.

And so now, it’s October. The next few months will fly by like they usually do this time of year. I feel excited about what’s in store, but also insanely insecure. Insecure to the point I actually checked my October horoscope for no other reason than to go, “Well that’s bullshit.”

Fingers crossed, I’ll have some good news in a professional sense sooner than later. I’m hesitant to tell anyone the opportunities I’ve been approached with until I’ve actually started. Things don’t seem tangible or celebratory until it’s official, you know? And as far as my love life’s concerned, well, as always it’s a bunch of “what the fuck is going on?” and resembles nothing of the romantic comedies I’ve seen that promised me quirky, fun love with laughing montages to up-tempo pop songs.

But, maybe this month has that in store for me. You never know.

Good luck with October, everyone.