"Happy birthday, Harry!"

When did this happen to me?


I started crying at 12:01 last night. You know that old eighties song by Alphaville? It's called "Forever Young" and I cried when it came on just past midnight last night.


I love birthdays. I mean, who doesn't? They remind me of how good I've got it - how wonderful my parents are, even when they are mad at me. How many good people exist in real life: The barista bought my lunch today simply because it's my birthday; my fashion board director spent hours helping me find something perfect to wear tonight; my mom spent way too much money on me; an entire train car sang "Happy Birthday" to me on Thursday night; my neighbor brought me a beautiful cake; I'm discovering birthday wishes via the internet; people I haven't heard from in years are calling and making me cry even more... It's a little overwhelming, actually.


I find so much pleasure in material things, too - I'll admit to that. I love new bedding for my new room and gorgeous new shoes and this most beautiful black blazer.


It does seem fitting that I spent the last few moments of my year with the same people who have been in my life for quite some time, doing the same things we have done together for as long as I like to remember. It seems fitting that I spent it with people who wished me a happy birthday a year ago today. It's good to know that some things never change - that Kyle Somer will always be too awkward and too cute and that Matt will always pay more attention to his guitar than to me and that Avery will always have a book in her bag.


But I'm so scared. And so overwhelmed. I don't know when I got this old and I can't believe how much changed in just 365 days and I can't believe how much is changing right at this exact moment. I don't even believe that we moved into my house six years ago to the day.


Of course, I don't want time to pause and not live my at all life or anything, but guess who doesn't deal with change all that well? Me, that's who. Yours truly.


I can't believe how everything and nothing can be changing simultaneously. I can't believe how time can be moving in both fast-forward and slow-motion at the exact same second.


When did this happen to me?


Cheers, my friends. Thanks for being with me even when I am crazy and all full of badness. This is for you, from me, on my birthday. Because I wouldn't be me without you.


Don't taunt the flowers (they can't defend themselves).
All my love,
Addy

Quality of motion.

And then it is July and I am so worried because I've been stuck in this crevice for so long with nothing to write about and before I know it it'll be August and I'll be blowing out birthday candles and headed back to high school again for "Guess and Hope a Lot That Things Work Out Semi-Nicely" round two and then all of a sudden I'll be wearing a cap and gown and then wandering the streets of Manhattan and living off of goat pops alone because I'm simply trying to pay my tuition and hopefully dating someone tall and skinny and cultured (fingers crossed) and then we'll have kids and our kids will have kids and out of nowhere I'll have gray hair and wrinkles everywhere and I'll maybe even consider Botox for a split second, and I'll wake up one morning and realize I can't see without my glasses or move without my walker and then the next morning, I simply won't wake up at all.


I am praying for quality in my motions. When I realize I can't see or walk, I don't want to realize I never did anything with myself, too.


I can't breathe easy, either.
All my love,
Addy


P.S. On a lighter note, remember this shirt? Guess which lucky girl found it in a Park City coffee shop yesterday called "Atticus" (As in, "Finch"): me. That's who.

"That's crazy."

I think I hear things like, "That's not my hair. That's a penguin," or "Don't you think so, too?" a lot. The problem is that I don't remember how the hair became a penguin or what I am supposed to be agreeing with 'cause, you know, I'm not, like, the best listener or anything. 

So usually I'm like, "Har, har, har..." but then I realize that the penguin is some sort of endangered animal and the fact that they're headed down the path towards extinction isn't funny and you can't laugh in answer to a question, of course.

So I set out to find an answer that is appropriate for anything. I'm not saying it's the best response for anything, simply that it's appropriate. And guess what, folks: I've got it.

"That's crazy."

I told Avery about it several months ago. I've been thinking about it a lot, lately. Try me. Give me something that I can't say "That's crazy" to. That's right. You can't. That's crazy.

1. Incredibly depressing situations. Person no. 1: "There is an impending meteorite." Person no. 2: "That's crazy."

2. Incredibly exciting situations. Person no. 1: "I bought something cool!" Person no. 2: "That's crazy."

3. Situations that are totally, totally random. Person no. 1: "My toenails are several different shades of pink." Person no. 2: "That's crazy."

4. Situations in which you are not listening at all but need to interject something. Person no. 1: "I was like, who does she think she is?" Person no. 2: "That's crazy."

The only flaw is the command form, I think. When someone says, "Dance," it might be semi-odd to say, "That's crazy." But, I mean, not really. So pretty much it works for everything.

Also, if you get the right tone, you don't even have to change the the tone of your voice to fit with the situations, really. The recipe for mine is below:

1/8 sarcastic

1/8 joyful

1/2 interested

1/8 angst ridden 

1/8 incredibly depressed

Beat with electric mixer until solidified.

I hate you for leaving. I hate you for leaving. I hate you for leaving.

All my love,

Addy