Birthday Memories

When I was about 5 years old or so, my parents had a little birthday party for me. I remember sitting in the kitchen with kids from the neighborhood. I remember eating cake and wondering why there were so many kids there.

When I was a couple years older, maybe 7 or 8, I had requested the Barbie Makeup Head. Supposedly it came with real makeup that you could put on and take off. I was very excited when I opened up the present from Mom and Dad and saw the shiny, fake hair and plastic smile of the "life-sized" Barbie head. When I opened the makeup, however, it was also shiny and plastic. This was simply not good and I was heartbroken. I cried and threw a temper-tantrum. I distinctly remember the sadness on Mom's face as she said they couldn't afford the "real-make-up" doll. I went to my room and came back 5 minutes later feeling very contrite about the selfishness of my actions. This birthday memory has haunted me ever since.

When I turned 8, I received my first hair crimper from my cousin. It was pink and marked a life-changing event in the history of my hair. The lovely crimper served me well for the next 15 years. That same day we had a party in my Grandma's backyard, complete with blue tarp slip and slide. Totally worth the bruised knees!

On my 10th birthday, I had a birthday party with my friends from school. I had just discovered the amazing-ness of Moose Bars and boldly told my mother that I did not want ice cream for my party, only Moose Bars. Glorious little treats, I think my mother was actually relived to not serve ice cream.

On one of my pre-teen birthdays (I can't remember which), Grandma came to my house and told me that a good thing to do on my birthday would be to do "A Hundred Pick-up" (also known as cleaning up). I told Grandma that it was my birthday and I didn't want to clean. Then I felt bad and cleaned up anyway. Stupid guilt trips...

On my long-awaited 16th birthday, my friend Marie invited me over to her house. After a couple of hours, she said she had a camp meeting so she had to take me home (she could drive almost an entire year before me). Upon arriving home, I walked into the family room only to be ambushed by all of my friends. It was awesome and the only surprise party I have ever been given. We had water balloons and a pinata and I was overwhelmed by how awesome everyone was. I still love all you guys!

Ten years after my 16th birthday, I am at work, sitting in my office. I am trying to act cool, like today is just any other day, but I really appreciate the special attention my friends, family, and co-workers have shown me. When I arrived this morning at work, I was greeted by the banner and bouquet my co-worker had brought me (she rocks!). All the girls here at work went out to lunch to celebrate and we ate gelato. Around 2:30, everyone from our department came in singing Happy Birthday and making a lot of noise. Most of my siblings have called or texted, and dear friends have sent birthday wishes via phone calls and facebook. And finally, but not least of all, my sweet husband took me shopping yesterday and made sure I was taken care of. So thank you to everyone who made me feel special today on my 26th birthday.

Hopefully we can spend many more birthdays together sharing our friendship and happiness. I love you all!!

Current Emotions

No matter how old I get, it's always hard for me to endure the disappointment that comes from expecting and wanting something so badly, only to find that no matter what you do, you can't have it. Even as an adult, this is difficult. Or maybe, ESPECIALLY as an adult, because I fully recognize the sort of dwindling hope I still have and consequently I have to consciously buoy it up in order to save myself from total despair.

This is made even more unbearable by the realization that what I want is something so many other people have. Something that can be easy to obtain for others, but is seemingly impossible for me.

I feel very vulnerable and inadequate. As I am a firm believer in God and the role he plays in my life, I have to believe that there is a reason for my requests to be denied or postponed. However, I don't know the reason and I feel instead unworthy, not good enough to receive my heart-felt desires. Faith argues to be strong, to wait it out. The natural man inside of me struggles, fighting with logic and asking how long I should wait and why no one has explained it to me.

In a few minutes I will put my smile back on and pretend I have no worries, no sorrows, and no lingering self-doubts, because I have to. I have to keep going, to endure it well.

**Note: This post is not intended to evoke pity or sorrow from the reader, rather it is a self-exploration of emotion. To understand myself better and thus continue to carry on as I have for so long now.

Slightly Hysterical "History" about the American Independence Day

Being an aspiring historian with expertise in Colonial America makes the 4th of July a very interesting holiday. Already knowing all the history and tiny details surrounding our nation's birthday allows me to sit back and watch everyone else who is still attempting to learn that history. In most cases, this turns out to be pretty funny, especially since people generally have a great deal of pride they are trying to protect. One cannot seem weak or unintelligent in today's world, so they pretend and think no one else is smart enough to know the difference.

Entertaining historically inspired situations that enlivened my weekend:

- Turning on the History channel Thursday night I learned that the Masons founded the United States of America and are still working on achieving their "New World Order" which consists of them running the world their way. The sad part of this is that many people think that if it's on the History channel, it must be true. I can only imagine how many conspiracy nuts were created by the airing of this fictional documentary.

- In a separate documentary I also learned the the secret society of the Skull and Bones at Yale is the primary rival of the Masons and that they are far more successful in terms of infiltrating the political system than the Masons currently are. This one might actually be true... ;)

- A guest at a get-together I attended was downright upset when the host said that the 4th of July wasn't as big in her family as the 24th of July. He promptly freaked out and refused to listen to the rational reasons the host was struggling to provide. The real reason why her family (and mine as well) celebrates the 24th more exuberantly is not because of Pioneer Day exactly. It really has to do with the fact that our hometown city celebrates Fiesta Days on the 24th, and boy, as a child that was one of the best days of the year! (I actually told this guy we weren't patriotic just to make him mad...)
*Note to readers: Patriotism is NOT a religion and saying you enjoy a different holiday more than Independence Day is NOT blasphemous, nor should people be offended by it. Personally, I might actually argue that it's blasphemous to be so patriotic.
***For more info on my personal opinions on Independence Day, please refer to my blog post of July 5, 2007.

- Later, this same guest was again upset at my husband (a genius of a historian) when Alexander told him that the 1812 Overture, that annually plays as the background music of the fireworks in DC, was actually written about the war between France and Russia and not the tiny skirmish in the US that happened to be a spill-over from the European War. Quote of the night: "No, it was written by a Russian, but it was about the American War of 1812. That was an important war. Why else would they play it at the fireworks?"
Why indeed? For the record, Alexander and I really hate American-centric thinking. We laughed the whole night home about his assumption that a Russian would care enough about some random new country thousands of miles away to write an entire, beautiful orchestration for it.

- While watching a re-run of the finale of the DC fireworks, the Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps came out to play in typical colonial fashion. They were dressed to the nines in wigs, tricorn hats, and button-up shoes. Their uniforms were spot-on perfect, but they were wearing red coats. In light of the fact that the only thing most Americans know about the colonial British are their "Red Coats" I thought it was slightly funny. When I decided to make a joke about how ironic the outfits were, the same passionate person mentioned above thought it would be a good idea to argue with me. Second quote of the night: "What are you talking about? The Americans were such a rag-tag army that they wore anything they could get their hands on, so you can't say they never wore a redcoat."

Hmm, well, in actuality, the musicians of the army wore opposite colors of the regiments they were assigned (the revolutionaries wore blue accented with red, so the band wore red accented with blue) so the uniforms really were perfect. Despite this (since I doubt he knew this history) his argument is still lacking. While it is probable that the American army wore whatever they could find, if they had picked up a British red coat they probably would have turned the coat inside out so as to guarantee they weren't shot by their own side. Plus, I seriously doubt an entire regiment would be wearing only the red coats that they salvaged off the battlefield. Regardless, in light of the average American's knowledge or colonial uniforms, I still felt validated for making fun of it.

Anyway, despite my semantics and urge to debate, it was a fun weekend and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We stuffed ourselves to the brim with hamburgers, bratwurst, Kalua pork and snow-cones and went to bed each night happy, contented and worn-out. I need more weekends like this. :)