birthday schmirthday

No one ever gets what they really want on their birthday, do they?

That's a pretty pessimistic sentiment, even for me. But it stirs up inside me annually, and I don't know why.

I sometimes attribute it to a post-Holidays depression. After the season of giving and giving and giving and spending and spending and more giving, I'm worn out. You'd think that I'd be looking forward to some wholesale receiving.

But it's never the case.

My birthday has always been a cause of major dissatisfaction for me, for as long as I can remember. It is the brightest point of ambivalence in my emotional spectrum.

I have had happy birthdays-- don't get me wrong. I've known the joys of receiving incredible gifts, heartfelt sentiments, or experiencing some high-grade bona fide fun in my honor. But as the years go by, I find my anxieties mounting earlier and earlier. It's going to get to the point where I'll be stressed out about my birthday before New Year's Eve passes.

It has nothing to do with aging. I am at peace with that notion.

It has to do with control.

Some people have no problem turning their birthdays into some sort of special event. But you'd think that a shameless self-promoter such as myself would also be in that league, and in reality I am not.

For example: tonight was going to be the night my band played The Viper Room. I promoted it as a birthday-related event, even though it was not planned as such. I figured, hey, it's the Viper Room, and it's a few days before my real birthday... why not kill two birds with one stone?

Unfortunately, our gig got canceled, because a major-label artist is booking the place for the whole night. I cannot divulge who it is until tomorrow, but suffice it to say I was NOT upset at being bumped by this particular performer. In fact, if thing work out well enough, maybe some comp tickets would be in order...

Anyway, the point is, now that I am faced with the quandary of not having a big gig tied in with my birthday, I am now less willing to go out on a limb. It would've been easy for me to bask in the glow of a rock show, because ironically enough it would spread the attention out to others.

Yes, it's true: on my birthday, I hate being the center of attention.

Any other day of the year, I want the spotlight... but my birthday makes me downright neurotic.


*/*


Luckily, Dotty the Karaoke Singer called me a while ago. We talked about our respective birthdays (hers is in the beginning of February) and how she has a disinclination to hand over the reins to someone else in regards to her birthday.

Dotty is an expert on party planning, and so it is always a disappointment for her when her well-wishing and good-intentioned friends cannot give back in equal measure the same energy that she puts into their birthday celebrations.

Dotty told me, "It's like, I wish there was someone in my circle of friends who was just like me in that way. I love my friends to death, and they are wonderful and loving and supportive, but every time they plan my party it always turns out horribly wrong. That's why I'm the one in my circle who handles those plans."

"They only want your approval, Dotty. You do so much for them and make it look so easy, and they get nervous because they don't want to fuck it up. In the process, they end up letting their expectations--and yours --overwhelm them," I said to her over the phone.

I could relate to Dotty's complaint: although I am not as good as throwing parties as she is, I do know that feeling of realizing that someone who is your friend has no idea what you like or don't like. Birthday gifts are an excellent litmus test, to see which of your friends really knows you and which ones are merely on the periphery.

It's treading on thin ice to get too deep into this, but at the same time I think (at some level) everyone feels this way.

I tell people not to give me anything for my birthday, and if they don't buy me a gift I don't get upset. But at the same time, there's that gnawing at the back of the head, that feeling that the person should've at least made an effort to get you a gift, even if it was handmade or cheap.

That's a human reaction, I think.


*/*


Eve asked me yesterday what I wanted for my birthday. I was put on the spot and couldn't think of anything.

The thing is, she knows what I want. It costs no money and wouldn't require her to charge her credit card with one single penny. But I know that she is unable to give me what I want, and therefore I view her question as being more along the lines of: "What do you want instead?"

One would argue that she is unwilling, but I think she is just ill-suited to meet my improbable demands.

And what is it that I want from her?

If I have to spell it out for you, it's not worth it.

That's how I view birthday gifts anyway: I don't like ordering people around so that I can profit maximally. Otherwise, I'd just tell everyone to give me cash and that'd be the end of it.


*/*


Dotty just convinced me to have a bring-your-own-meat cookout at my place on Saturday. Then, I will go over to my cousin's place for his birthday party. He's in his early '20s, so he has no shame in throwing the big bash for himself.

After that, I'll play it by ear. There's a club going on that night, one put on by my co-workers-- live salsa music and DJs until closing time. Or, maybe we can go over to Michael's Bar & Grill down the street. Perhaps we could all just go back to my place and continue to party until the break of dawn.

The next morning, I will have breakfast with Dotty and anyone who wants to join, and then make my way up to the desert to have a transitional lunch with my dad followed by a climactic dinner with my mother and my siblings.

Now that I have an idea of what I want to do this weekend, my semblance of control is returning. This makes me feel really good. I want to balance my need to be 100% in the driver's seat with my other virtue, that being my ability to relinquish the reins and go with the flow.

I don't want to be one of those birthday hosts who tortures his friends and family with his insane standards, but at the same time I don't want to be taken on a wild-goose chase by people who assume they know how I feel.

Eve asked me yesterday what I wanted. And now that I've talked it over with Dotty, and now that I've written about it at some length, I know what I want for my birthday.

I want to get WASTED!


*/*


Some memorable birthday moments:

1987-- For my 13th birthday, my parents allowed me to have school friends over for a party. This was the first time I'd thrown a party... ever. I was worried that no one would show up because I lived in Pacoima, but a good number of people arrived and we had fun. I received Beastie Boys' License To Ill on vinyl as a present.

At one point, we played Seven Minutes In Heaven. I remember that I had to go outside and make out with a girl whose best friend I had a crush on, and I recall that I made up some bullshit about not wanting to make out because it wasn't "dignified". I don't know how the girl took it-- she vocally agreed with me, but possibly because she didn't want to make it seem like she was being rejected.

I recall that a female friend of mine had an emotional breakdown, and one of my older brother's friends started macking with one of my female friends-- he was in high school, she was in junior high!

Also: my friend Sal's grandfather had just died, and he almost got into a row with my cousin Johnny, who didn't appreciate Sal's attitude (and didn't know about the dead grandfather).

Overall, a splendid affair...


1992-- I told my girlfriend Vera that I wanted it to just be the two of us for my 18th birthday. So what did she do? She organized a surprise party, of course, thinking that my rants against the idea were actually indicative of my profound desire to have one.

In retrospect, it was a sweet thing for her to do. But of course I had to go and ruin it without even knowing it.

The day of, I took a bus all the way from Sylmar to Canoga Park-- an hour and a half bus ride. By the time I got to her house, I had to pee so badly I was hurting.

She opened the door, and before she could greet me I pushed her aside and said, "I need to piss so badly!"

I ran past the kitchen, where a group of close friends were waiting to see the expression on my face. Instead, they caught a blurry glimpse of me running straight to the bathroom, my hands on my crotch.

I stopped and walked back to the kitchen, my pee suddenly not so urgent. Did I see what I thought I just saw? I looked inside the kitchen in shock, as my friends said, with much bemusement, "Surprise?"

I apologized, and went back to the bathroom. When I relieved myself, I blew out the candles on the cake and we celebrated.


1995-- On the night of my 21st birthday, my band was playing a show at the now-defunct Roxbury on Sunset. I turned 21 at the stroke of midnight, which was when we were slated to perform. It was an incredible night for me, and may serve as the basis for my next novel idea.


2000-- This one was memorable because Jeanie, my girlfriend at the time, gave me some awesome birthday presents: the selected letters of William S. Burroughs; a poem she had written about me that touched me greatly; a romantic dinner for two at the dimly-lit Casa Vega in Sherman Oaks; and a beautiful birthday BJ that I will never forget for as long I live.

It may seem shallow and materialistic, but at the same time Jeanie understood me from a different perspective. She met me while I was undergoing some massive changes in my life. It's a shame it didn't last long between us, but it was nice while it lasted. My birthday with her that year ranks in my Top 5 for sure.

Speaking of which, I've already listed four birthday highlights-- where is the fifth?

I don't know-- maybe I'll have another on Monday. For now, I can't think of anything. But I'll be sure to let you know when it pops into my head.

HAVE A NICE WEEKEND, FOLKS!!