Sunday, May 16, 2010

It's My Party & I'll Cry if I Want To!

I'm feeling reflective, chickadees, indulge me; I have been 27 years old for a whole hour now. Funny, I have the same sort of birthday feeling that I had in my mid-teens - a little sad, a little pleased, a little loose in the world.This birthday marks the beginning of the first Saturn Return, which is said by astrologers to be a period of restructuring and reevaluation. I could certainly use both. It's very strange to think that it's been 10 years since I turned 17. 10 years composed of the awkward end of adolescence & the scraggly beginning of adult life, all in a jumble in my head: stumbles & scraped knees, bitten nails, Greyhound buses, living in headphones, writing poetry, living in ripped tights, overdrawn bank accounts, scars, drunkenness, emotional haircuts, long nights writing research papers at the last possible minute, driving around singing at the top of my lungs, getting arrested in Canada, waking up in playgrounds, taking children to playgrounds, visiting England, sickness, hospitals, therapy, cigarettes, drawing monsters, learning to tap dance, playing the piano, trying sobriety, dropping out of Syracuse, moving to Boston, moving to Pittsburgh, falling in love for real, getting engaged, a thousand church basements, mourning lost friends, making new friends, getting to know my parents, getting to know my siblings, becoming an aunt, working in coffee shops, babysitting, writing poetry, getting unengaged, selling photographs, getting published, giving readings, learning to dance again, making small books, keeping plants, owning a car, driving across the country for a month, getting into graduate school, writing & writing & writing & not giving up entirely.

Things have been rather difficult lately, and I've been somewhat dreading this birthday. I have this thing about Time, see, which you'd know if you ever saw the hourglass tattoo on my wrist. A birthday can (if you let it, and I do) be one's own little New Year's. I've been holding onto some things that aren't useful, speaking to ghosts, watching ghost dreams. But Time just keeps moving, and on the horizon for me are opportunities I've worked hard to earn. Trying to always twist backwards doesn't agree with Time. It's not as if I can let everything go today, just because it's my birthday, but maybe, just for today, I can. What's a birthday anyway? Another day, another possibility.

Happy birthday to me. Thank you for being in my life, chickadees, wherever you are.

3 comments:

Robby said...

You are one of my favorite people, Sophie, along with my mom and my piano teacher.
You are just such an amazing girl and I will admit that, if I was also 27 and not a homosexual, I would be madly in love with you.
Happy birthday, friend. I'm glad you don't think I'm a creep.

sophie klahr said...

Oh Robby, you are my favorite chickadee, and certainly not a creep, you are a perfect 14 year old you. If I were a 14 year old gay boy, I'd be in love with you too, and we'd have fabulous times, I'm sure of it. :)

Leigh Phillips said...

Make it beautiful, beautiful.