The thing is, I remember turning twenty-four, at least the general circumstances. Emily and I had just a few months earlier moved into a nice three-bedroom apartment in Knollwood. I was still working fast-food, she'd just graduated and I forget what she was doing for work. I don't know if I was role-playing; I was certainly boardgaming with the VT boardgaming club. Things were pretty solidly okay. The next year they'd get better, at least on the surface, and then progressively worse for a couple of years, and then just weird for awhile.
I don't really remember thirty-six. We'd been in Vancouver for not quite a year and a half, and I was burning out something fierce. Journal tells me that month was World Fantasy in Toronto, and, later, a long wander-and-talk with Jenn P-- during a visit back to DC, and then a John Cale concert down in Seattle. I remember all of those but could not have told you when they happened. The first three years in Vancouver really are a depressive blur at this point.
Twelve? That would have been sixth grade, in Fayetteville. Maybe the least bad of those five years.
I don't remember my birthday for any of those. I generally don't remember my birthdays; the overlap with Thanksgiving-time taught me that it was useless to try to plan anything that I wanted anyone else to show up for. (For my eighteenth Jeff F-- threw me a surprise party, which I think remains the nicest wholly-unexpected thing anyone has ever done for me.)
Happy (tail end of the) Year of the Dragon, all. I'm curious to see what forty-eight brings.
I don't really remember thirty-six. We'd been in Vancouver for not quite a year and a half, and I was burning out something fierce. Journal tells me that month was World Fantasy in Toronto, and, later, a long wander-and-talk with Jenn P-- during a visit back to DC, and then a John Cale concert down in Seattle. I remember all of those but could not have told you when they happened. The first three years in Vancouver really are a depressive blur at this point.
Twelve? That would have been sixth grade, in Fayetteville. Maybe the least bad of those five years.
I don't remember my birthday for any of those. I generally don't remember my birthdays; the overlap with Thanksgiving-time taught me that it was useless to try to plan anything that I wanted anyone else to show up for. (For my eighteenth Jeff F-- threw me a surprise party, which I think remains the nicest wholly-unexpected thing anyone has ever done for me.)
Happy (tail end of the) Year of the Dragon, all. I'm curious to see what forty-eight brings.