Tomorrow I Will Be 32.

The handsome young gentleman in the navy sport coat and flying mallard tie, yes, is me, and my arm is locked with a lovely lady in a questionably lovely pink dress, my grandmother Katherine, or Grandma Katey as she was always called in the way that Mom and Dad have always been Mom and Dad. I'm told our humor is very similar and that I'd have liked her if I'd known her.

I'd guess I am 7 or 8 in this picture and I remember it was taken at the nursing home where she lived, Delmar Gardens West in Town and Country, Missouri, just outside of St. Louis. It's not apparent from this picture, but for as long as I can remember her, she was always a bit out of it. She started having strokes when I was very little and by the time I was this age she couldn't speak clearly or chose her actions very well.

My father loved his mother very much and made a point of taking us to visit her weekly. This was a special occasion, a special dinner and dance. On her other side, just out of frame, is her other grandson, Joseph, who served in the army. She only had two children, and they only had two children themselves. The other grandkids are Teresa and Chris, my sister. Another picture from this occasion is of my Dad dancing with a beautiful woman in a black dress, who is not my mother. It's comical, although I couldn't say who the woman was.

I like stories about my family. We've never been that unique. A classic paradigm, Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister. We had a dog growing up. Lived in a "normal" neighborhood where I played and was picked on by the neighboring kids. I walked to kindergarten and then wore a uniform in my private Catholic school. High school, college, work. My dad retired, so did my mom, and now they have their hobbies. Sister got her degree, got a job and now has a family of her own.

I'd like to say I'm more unique now. I was married, then divorced, which set me apart from my parents. It's something they can only relate to from the outside, having seen it happen with friends and family. I've got pierced ears and tattoos and have broken away from the faith in which I was raised to practice some Buddhism. You could even say my two cats and shaven head qualify me for outsider status, but all that's just from my family.

Their testament is love. They accept me for who I am, because they know, deep down, I'm the same kid as in that picture. (Or they love me anyway.) I loved my grandmother even though I didn't know her, just as I try to love others even if I didn't know them. But I do know them. Because on some level we're all the same, even when we're unique.

***

Thought I was done, didn't you? Ha ha! No, I could end there, with the thing I wasn't planning on writing, but did, and my neat little ending about uniqueness, but, as this sentence implies, there were things I planned on writing.

Like how I went out to Sedalia this past Friday night to hangout with my friend Behka and we went to dinner where, at my request, they came and sang and then I became highly uncomfortable at the whole thing. Then we went to what was our old haunt, but got turned into this much more popular sports bar. Then we went to an older and less frequent haunt, which we call The Redneck Bar and I got to sing some karaoke, two Toby Keith songs if you want to know (I like his music, but not his politics), and then a fight broke out and we left. This one guy was being held back by a woman and he twirled her away and she fell against some chairs. I don't remember faces and couldn't really tell the players so I figured there wasn't anything I could do. They choose this life and this type of thing is probably commonplace.

I was tired and had had a lot to drink, so I elected to stay at her house. I'm normally too proud for this, but I'm getting too old to fight my body's will. I slept okay, but needed some water and the breakfast, which was a bit large, that came the next morning. I stuck around as Behka prepared some stuff for her move into an apartment next week. (If you'd like to read about all this and you don't already know her, you can find her blog here.) I watched Unstoppable and Wall Street and went with her to buy some stuff at the local grocery store before leaving.

And since coming back I've pretty much sat around watching t.v. shows on my computer and feeling sorry for myself.

This is the beginning of my annual vacation, which I always take over the week of my birthday.

***

I'm still not done? Sheesh.

This is such a sad song:



It's great to sing, but listening to the story, which isn't difficult with a country song, you hear it's about two people that succumb to drink, depression and death.

The tattoo I got last week is healing nicely. It's all thin lines so there isn't much to itch or to which to pay attention. I go back in a week for the shading which is going to be a bitch. I deal with it well, but this is the first time I get to go back several times in succession to relive the pain. That being said I really want to go get a Tardis tattoo tomorrow, on my actual birthday, but it seems excessive. And I don't know how much it would cost and cut into the money for my other tattoo. And I don't know where to go. Should I go to the same shop as for the one I'm in the process of getting? Is it rude to go to another artist? No, that can't be right. And I know what I'll do for the rest of my arm to accompany the larger piece I'm getting now. Since she's commented on this being a portfolio piece, I need to give her more control of the artwork, but I know exactly what it should look like.

I'll go home and see my family sometime this week and I'm debating about trying to work on Saturday, because they have this stupid, unfair rule about only getting one weekend requested off a year. I'd like to go visit a friend, but I haven't heard back and they've got some stuff going on so I understand. But, darnit.

This year, which I like to morbidly call my "last year" will be filled with excitement and adventure. I have plans. A comic expo in Chicago with my own comic, hiking trips, tattoos, finishing The Arctic Heart, girls ... well, girl? I don't know how that one's going to work out. I don't really like dating much or doing the personal's site thing anymore and I don't want to revisit anyone from my past and I'm still pretty shy about asking women out that I meet in person. Okay, I make a move every now and then, but I'm not good at it.

Okay, this year I have a new goal, or, rather, an anti-goal: I will be less focused on women. At least until the world ends.

***

I'm also proud to say I haven't chewed my nails in over a month and regularly maintain them. I kind of like that.

Done now.

***

Oh, I wanted to mention I'm working on a story called "The Cat Magician", which is partly inspired by an exchange with Liz Prince. We're not friends or anything; I was buying myself a birthday card and we had a couple clever comments.

Yes, I bought myself a birthday card. If it wasn't such a cool card, I'd feel pathetic.