Twenty-Three and Still Kickin'...

November 16, 2008 marked my first birthday spent overseas.  It was...an experience.  

Several people asked me before and afterwards about the day's plans or evening's festivities, but it started becoming a little bit awkward after telling the 8th or 9th person that I had absolutely no plans.  In fact, all I did was sleep late, clean my room, and go grocery shopping.  How's that for a celebration?  

There are lots of times that I feel like a 40-year-old trapped in a 20-something-year-old's body.  This was one of them.

If I had given it more thought, I might have gone into town to get a Swedish massage, or splurged on a huge canvas and paints and just gone crazy-creative, or swum laps, or packed a picnic lunch and taken it to the lake, or ANY DAMN THING out of the ordinary.  But the truth is, there just wasn't time.  Before I could blink an eye, November 16 came and went.  I have been consumed with day-to-day responsibilities (that probably sounds ultra-lame, but the truth is, the pace of everyday life is exhausting here), not to mention hardcore grad. school portfolio preparation these past few weeks...almost finished though.  Thank you, Jesus, Daddy, and the Spook!

I think I take after my father in the regard that I don't enjoy "thinking about me", so birthday parties and gift requests seem a little self-indulgent.  Not in everyone's case, of course, but personally speaking.  Several people asked, "Why aren't you throwing a party?" and in my head, I replied, "...because that puts all the work and preparation and clean-up on the one person who shouldn't have to do it - why aren't YOU throwing ME a party?!"  

Now, I wouldn't want someone else to throw a party for me, either, but it's a nice thought, all the same.  In all honesty, I like throwing parties whenever time allows and inspiration hits.   I enjoy focusing the attention on something or someone, as long as that isn't me.  Put me in a fatty suit or nerd glasses and I can entertain all night, but stick "just me" out there at a party FOR "me" and I would more than likely be repulsed.  In fact, I probably wouldn't even show up.  Chinese New Year?  Bring your rickshaw to my place, egg rolls are on the stove.  St. Patrick's Day?  Let's toast over a pint of Guinness, and wear green or I'll pinch the hell out of you.  Halloween?  Absolutely, my friend.  My birthday?  Well, after 21, the years seem a little bland.  Maybe 25 will bring a spark of renewal.  The termination of coverage under my parents' insurance should be a high-water mark, for sure.

In all fairness, I must mention that the highlight of the birthday weekend was receiving a HUGE, HANDMADE BIRTHDAY CARD (2 black poster board sheets tied together with ribbons) from two awesome friends from the Czech Republic, Klára and Andrea.  We went out for pizza on Friday night, and lo and behold, there it was - plopped in my lap upon arrival.  They put black and white photos all over  it of me and them (courtesy of Facebook) and wrote "10 Things We Love About You" that, in one way or another, corresponded to each picture.  Complete with hand-prints dipped in silver paint, this thing is very special, and I will probably mail it back to the States before leaving Sweden just so it won't risk damage.  As for the "special day" itself, all would have seemed a waste had it not been for my groovy roomate Jonathan, who that evening gave me a nice cigar and a box of Spanish wine, directly imported.  We went into the pre-viking burial site that's right next to our dorm building and puffed on stogies as we sipped brandy and had "man talk".  It was cool.  Cold, even.  We capped off the night with some hot fudge cake and vanilla ice cream that I'd picked up at Hemköp earlier...Nothing compared to homemade, but it was still mighty tasty.

So, here I am now - 23, and none the wiser, I'm sure.  A rousing, off-key chorus of "Happy Birthday" and a hug from my mom would have been nice, but when I look at all I've been given and all that I've gained in being here, nothing's really missing in the long run...

...And another thing:  I don't know WHO in our corridor thinks it's a swell idea to cook garlic/onions 2-3 times a week for meals, but whenever it happens, the smell overpowers the entire corridor.  I'll be sitting here at my computer, and in an instant, my bedroom smells like a Sicilian butcher.  I'm burning my sandalwood incense next time, no apologies.

Goodnight, ladies and gents.  This 23-year-old is cruisin' for a snoozin'...