juushika

Yesterday (Sunday, the 18th) was my birthday! It was a lovely birthday! Easily the best that I can remember, with grace given for "bad memory" and for "I usually get so anxious about celebrating events Correctly that I spoil the celebration, lol." I had a quiet weekend with Devon. On Saturday night we watched John Wick (this borrowing movies from the library thing is neat):

John Wick, film, 2019, dir. Chad Stahelski
Devon compared this to a specific action scene (from some-or-another game or movie, I can't remember) except that it went on indefinitely—it's that iconic scene of scrappy competence porn, styled midway between slick and down-and-dirty, extended to feature-length. Being able to maintain that niche atmosphere is admirable and so satisfying, and I appreciate that the dog death scene is weirdly tasteful. Solid.

and Devon gave me my first birthday gift early: a new tablet, a Samsung Galaxy Tab S5e—he gave me a tablet a few years ago just to see if I'd benefit from having one, and it became my primary computing device; I use my PC for gaming and typing, but my tablet for daily internet browsing/IM clients/the background is an omnipresent force in my life but I don't generally want to sit at my computer. And it's starting to show its age, particularly re: mobile games (read: Pokemon Go). I'll still use both at least until I (finally) get a phone, because the new tablet is less ideal for niche use like "walking while listening to an audiobook." But it's so sleek and light and speedy.

Saturday night we walked down to the supermarket (in the dark! while it was cool out! we've had such a mild summer so far, but still fuck summer, fuck overstimulation and photophobia, the only correct time to leave the house is 10p) for waffle mix, and on my birthday we did a breakfast of veggie sausage, orange juice, and waffles with vanilla ice cream. We own so few items and really prefer it that way, so we kept putting off buying a "makes just one thing" kitchen item, but we have no regrets about the waffle maker. We'll get plenty of use out of it, even if it only makes waffles, and after such a long wait that warm, fresh, steamy crisp chewy waffle against rich, cold "like whipped cream, but better" vanilla ice cream was exquisite. I hate cake (too sweet, texture bad) and I'm convinced that secretly most people do, that we have a cultural expectation that birthday = cake and so we eat it every year and it's always mediocre; what we should do instead is something that probably lacks iconic associations but which is suited to our tastes and feels like a sincere celebration. It's a lot of opinions to have about cake.

Devon's work as infinite PTO (with reasonable boundaries of "they fire shitty employees"), so he scheduled this Thursday off and we're planning to go into PDX proper for a Powell's visit and some sort of lunch. I'd so much rather go into town on a weekday instead of a busy weekend, and I appreciate that his job makes that—and a lot else—possible. I have to sit down in the next few days and figure out what few print books I may actually want to buy.

(He also scheduled half days over the entirety of Hanukkah, so that he can be home by sundown.)

I've been both lonely and overstimulated/anxious lately (which I mentioned elsewhere) and my birthday could easily have been a trigger—that combination of "reflect on the year: surprise! the year sucked!" and "celebrate the good things in life, of which there are objectively many, especially with where you are in your home and relationship" and "make plans towards self-improvement and the future, the thought of which is 10% anticipation and 90% crippling, spiraling anxiety" and "feel obligated to celebrate with/be celebrated by other people" was a panic attack waiting to happen. So staying in and doing small but celebratory couple-things over the weekend, and planning a larger but stress-mitigated outing, was the best solution. My birthday weekend felt full, joyful, present—I stayed in the moment and didn't spiral into horror at the passage of time.

I still can't remember how old I turned ... 34? I caved and did the math: 34. I shall now proceed to jettison that information and act like a clumsy identity thief every time I need to fill out personal information for the next year.