Birthday Blues, And It's Not Even My Birthday...
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My emails, all the .co.uk ones anyway, are down. This is because Another.Com is down. It seems to have stopped existing. Oh joy. So I'm hoping it comes back up soon.

We still don't have regular internet access, I am still nearly suicidally depressed and in in-fucking-tense pain...

...I dreamed about my hometown last night. About Joseph Martin, and about Connie-Beth, and about Angel. About things that lived underground. About the spoiled brats who had parties where there was cake and ice cream, but they wouldn't let the guests have seconds, only the birthday brat got seconds... I still can't believe those kids' parents didn't notice and stop that.

It's a little thing, but I remember it. I remember going to two different birthday parties where the birthday girl had a HUGE slice of cake and like six scoops of ice cream, the rest of us got these wafer-thin slices and little dabs of ice cream... and if you asked for seconds, which some of us did (I didn't at the second party, I learned my lesson at the first, but at both parties at least three people asked) the birthday girl yelled atcha not to be such a greedy pig, that it was HER cake and HER ice cream.

I didn't have those sorts of parties.

I had small ones, with a few friends, and lots of food and cake and ice cream.

We sat around, we talked, we ate, we played board games and joked about the adults, who left us pretty much alone.

I had the sort of parties that I still have now, if I have parties. Quiet ones. Fun, but quiet. Calm. Not thirty people running around screaming and throwing things, not pitiful amounts of everything, but solid, well-fed parties of close friends.

I think that says something, and I think it's good, honestly. I don't want to be a society maven who has to invite simply everyone, I want my parties to be just people I care about. I like it that way.

I don't really know how I got on this subject, but hey. It's better than rambling about pain again, yes?

Oh, and go read this. *grins*

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