Birthday stuff
Man, I love my cat. He is sitting on my lap right now. I am twenty now. It's an odd feeling.
Today was strange. Last night was stranger. Last night was my birthday party. We sat out on the porch, eating grilled salmon and salad and tomatoes from the garden. Everything went wrong after the cake came out. The cake was lovely - soft, good-smelling, and rich. My father made it, while my mother and I blustered around the kitchen and got in his way. Clearly we should get in his way more often - it was an excellent cake.
But I felt really lousy about my parent's gifts. A month ago, my father said, "Boy, Mar, those new flat screens really are something, aren't they? Do you want one?"
"Nah, I'm cool with the monitor I have right now. It's fine."
"Ohhh, come on, you know you want one. They are so great! You get more screen for your space! Wouldn't they be great on your desk at school?"
I didn't think they would fit any better (our desks weren't made for monitors) and told him so. I said that if he wanted to get me one, he could get me a small one.
"Oh no," he said. "Those are way too small. You need a big one."
So I finally acquiesced, and he said "Great, you're getting one for your birthday." Some surprise.
So, you know, I joked about it with all my friends. It was sorta like the time they gave me a printer (except I actually did need a printer) - so painfully utilitarian. And it pained me even more that he wasn't listening to me - just bulldozing ahead.
If he had asked me what I wanted for my birthday, even though I think that's tacky, I would have given him a list of books I'd like. And really, I figure if you know me in even the slightest capacity, you realize pretty quickly that I have a plethora of hobbies that can be financed. And the more he knows me, the more he'd realize that I love many material things and am easy to buy gifts for. But instead he pushed an expensive monitor on me.
I behaved so poorly when they brought it out. I was really sarcastic ("Oooh, guess what this is? Why, what a surprise! A monitor.") and worried out loud that it wouldn't fit on my desk any better than my current one. My brother counselled me beforehand to "practice faking smiles" and I've never done that well. I'm authentic to a fault.
I think the art of gift giving is a fine one, and would like for us to be like hobbits. I like to think that I'm pretty good at finding good presents for the loved ones in my life (however, I'm right terrible at remembering birthdays) and always send my brother nice things on his birthday. Well, once I sent him a Bryn Mawr pennant and he told me straight out that it was the dumbest thing he'd ever received (so much for tact on his part). So now he gets chocolate (and, I'm hoping, a CD of australian hip hop courtesy of a tip from my pal Tim). I like just-because presents, and notes, and giving people "thesis-finishing" gifts and such.
So, I was rude to my father because it offended my sensibilities, but I still felt terrible. I still do, really. My mother came up to my room and yelled at me and told me to go and thank my father for the monitor. I came down later, and watched part of a Robert Redford movie with him. I don't think he saw that I was crying. I couldn't help it. I said "I am so sorry that I was such a pill about the monitor. I really like it." He laughed and shrugged it off (his eyes were part closed, he was tipsy), but I still felt like crap.
Today, as I was shelving congressional hearings, I bawled outright. In the basement of the library, listening to silly cowboy songs, I screwed up my face and tears poured out. I leaned on the shelves and tried to keep going on my job, but I couldn't. I felt terrible, and angry at my father, and felt like he doesn't know me, or doesn't know how to tell me anything, and I felt guilty and spoiled and unappreciative. I felt sick, eventually. I knew that this was partly PMS but it felt so painful I could barely function. I felt so bad, I don't know what came over me.
I told most of the story to my afternoon boss. She's funny - she used to be a therapist but quit because "people worry over the stupidest things and I just wanted to tell them to get a grip!" But she's funny - she counsels me a bit. She set me right, and told me that it was okay to be dissapointed and that it didn't seem like I was ungrateful. I was glad to know she thought that.
Maybe it's silly to get so worked up over a gift. I don't know, but I am. Make of it what you will. When I got home, I was floored by a package from my friend Scott which had the most amazing, lovely book inside. It made my day so much better.
2002-08-21, birthday
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