things i have learned about myself, now that i turn 27 in 3 days
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Last year I was a total drama queen. This year will be no different. You’ve been warned.
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I find myself feeling angry more often. In normal households, that would be a usual emotion, like elation or apathy. In the Hsiung family household, “angry” means “convince yourself that the skizophrenic voices in your head are real and throw Christmas dinner in the garbage disposal,” or “scream at your children at 7am on a Saturday morning what failures they are because they scored a B- on a report card instead of an A.”
On one hand, it’s nice to be angry because one can only zone out and bottle it in and go numb for so long. And on the other, I don’t want to be the one this year telling Princess Diana to throw out a twelve pound turkey via what my sister calls “brainwaves.”
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I’m starting to settle down. Three or four years ago, I would go to underground parties wearing my blue hoodie and the cargo pants that I could swim in with my orange plastic necklaces and jump and scream and dance until five in the morning under the influences of, uhm, “inappropriate substances.”
Sometimes I miss those days, but for the most part, I don’t. I found some online photographs of those times, and it’s safe to say that I’m not that same person I was then. My self-esteem has slowly risen and I’m thirty pounds lighter. And who the fuck are some of these people in my living room, anyway? I must have been high those days. -
I got domestic. I’ve realized that am perfectly content hanging out with the boyfriend on a Friday night, ordering a pizza and watching a DVD. If you told me that four years ago, I would have never believed it; I would declare myself single forever, that there’s nothing wrong with that and I would never want to be in one of those boring, restrained relationships — that I enjoyed going to the clubs while attractive guys made out with each other while I smoked on the patio outside, fighting back tears from being odd man out.
And there is nothing wrong with being single, of course. Just make sure you believe the things you tell yourself, that’s all.
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Speaking of which, if you told me two years ago that I would have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have believed you. If you told me that he went to the same high school as me, I would have bet you my clothes, and I would be a naked man right now. A very content naked man with a great boyfriend, mind you. But a naked man, nonetheless.
(Note to self, re-write the previous three sentences when I have more time.)
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One last thing - I’m still not above pandering for items from my Amazon wishlist. My birthday is coming up, after all.
