Anatomy of a 22nd Birthday

This past Thursday, I had the good fortune to turn 22 years old, which hit me fully in the face this morning at work when the new girl asked me my age and I answered, then walked into the back room, only to freeze by a shelf full of band aids and condoms in shock and what was either awe or appall. The rosy glow of Thursday, where I felt pleased and accomplished had whipped off and left serious disparity: a sense of loss and a small identity crisis. I don't feel 22 years old. I don't know if I've done what other people have done at my age. I don't know if I feel ahead, but I think it's behind, and like I ought to do more '20 something' stuff while I still can. I will figure out what this really equals out to and report back in the mean.

Thursday started off with lunch, during which Bek and I freaked out as Steph oh-so-casually dropped the news that her and her long time boyfriend had FINALLY gotten engaged on a two week trip in the UK.  (WEDDINGS!) FINALLY.

Later, when peeps arrived to the party, in which I was spinning vinyls (like it's soooo cool) and drinking cocktails of Cake flavoured Vodka and Dry Lavender Soda. They all came bearing amazing gifts! Josh and Reb brought me the Tiny Book of Tiny Stories and my most coveted of all china, a Great Gays of Our Time mug. It's like having a peek-a-boo tea party with famous homos and Earl Grey. Phil and Steph brought me a HELP! Mug and Union Jack pins from Liverpool. I also got new yoga towel and a book about Montreal & Quebec City from Jill, as well as some new running gear from my parents. Which is AWESOME because all the stuff I have is now too big, as I have literally continued to run my ass off. (Upon hugging me when he got here, Josh declared me to be 'tiny.' ZING!)

Oh yeah, and I got new glasses! Peach Ombre retro beauties from LOVE brand.

After gifts and AMAZING cinnamon bun cupcakes that big sister engineered all by her lonesome, my crew and I rolled out, intending to go to the bowling lane. However, the guy told us in the lackadaisical way that seems smeared upon all people who work at bowling alleys, that he didn't have enough time to ring us all through before the lanes closed. So we ended up going to bubble tea, where I ended up eating too much. I regret nothing. Calories are null and void on birthdays. SCIENCE.

After that, we all headed back to my house. Some of my darlings had to split for home, and the rest of us sat around a chiminea fire on the deck. I was drinking sangria like juice, which messed with my stomach more than it put me out of my chair. I'm not 22-year-old-alcoholic-and-party-all-the-time type, but I do miss getting a good buzz going on. My birthday was the one day I didn't feel personally obligated to drive, so it was nice to even just be able to have a few without worrying about being the DD, which is the hat I usually wear.

We sat around the fire and talked about the internet and how Facebook might warp our children. We spoke of memories of highschool, Montreal, camping and summer flings. It was a really nice way to end the evening. 

Now with this milestone behind me, it's time to look ahead. I've started looking for places to live in Montreal, registered for a few classes, and get my schtuff all sorted out before I have to change plains...of existence.

UP NEXT: PRIDE & the 5K, musical overdose, selling my shit on Kijiji, battling Ben and Jerry's addiction, sunburns in weird places, piano keys, Gordon Lightfoot, cleaning out my closet without referencing Eminem (except just now), eventually quitting one of my jobs to allow more free time, the last haircut I might ever get for a long ass time, fashion blogging, being smitten, karaoke and I-want-my-nose-pierced-but-I-still-work-at-a-conservative-Starbucks.