Do You Really Like Me?

Last night, LK and I finally sent out the evite for our birthday party. We've been talking about this party FOREVER. I think we figured out in early fall of last year that our birthdays are one day apart (her: September 6th, me: September 7th) and immediately started planning the Party To End All Parties: The Virgo Birthday Bash. We've discussed this subject endlessly; all of our friends are tired of hearing about it. They'll probably just be relieved that the invite went out, and furthermore, be happy we didn't run with some of our earlier ideas like karaoke or a scavenger hunt.

And now, the expectations are high. At least, my expectations are high.

Since the invitation went out, I've been checking it. Frequently. Seeing who has responded, who has looked at it and not responded. Tinkering with the details. Calling friends and asking if they got the invite, which is ridiculous because I already know if they got it. Wondering if the directions are clear. Hoping I haven't forgotten to invite someone crucial. Worrying that we didn't pick the right place.

I need to calm down. It's just a birthday party.

All of this excitement and anticipation can't be good - it's like prom all over again - months of planning the perfect dress, the perfect date, and then the night itself arrives and falls flat. And I am sincerely hoping that this won't be the case with our party. That LK and I are going to have a glorious time, surrounded by our friends.

I've been trying to figure out why this party is so important to me, and this morning, the pieces fell into place. My birthday is a marker. It's a chance to examine my life, to look at where I was the previous year, and to see that there has (hopefuly) been progress toward becoming the person that I want to be. That each year, I've made myself a little bit better. Last year was easy - I had just moved into the city and started graduate school. This year is the test - I've changed my geography and my situation, but what about me? I continue the push and pull from my family, to fall apart over relationships gone wrong, to back away from expressing what I really feel. Sometimes I don't know who I am at all.

MC and I talked about this the other day in one of our marathon phone conversations (another thing which I am lucky for, a friend who has known me longer than I have known myself, who continues to want to know me). We were talking about the ability, in your 30's to feel just as insecure as you did in your teens, and since we knew each other in our awkward teenage years, we knew exactly how insecure that could be. And we asked ourselves if there was ever a finish point - where everything falls into place, where that insecurity disappears completely. There was no real conclusion - just that there are moments when you feel light and free and beautiful. And those moments happen more frequently than the ugly ones.