I woke up to a few birthday messages this morning, which is always nice. Actually, to skip to the end of the day, I ended up with well over 100 birthday wishes from friends and family through various calls, texts, and social media messages. I know it sounds like such a superficial token, but knowing that someone took even five seconds out of their day to send me a message like that was so incredibly appreciated. That type of gesture is so thoughtful. In fact, some of the messages were from people I hadn’t talked to in years. A lot of friends sent pictures as well, including some old girlfriends from my Florida days. This year, more than any other year before, those well wishes are what made this birthday special to me.

I go on and on in these journal entries about how unhappy I am, or how under-appreciated I feel. Yet, something as simple as a fucking birthday message turns it all around. All of those people care. They actually care. Even if they don’t, they care enough to pretend. How touching. But, seriously – the messages meant a lot to me. I think that’s why it hurts even more when I think about the fact that I never received anything from guys like RX or Logan. Oh, well.

I went to work for 9 a.m., and had a boring as hell first day managing the front desk at The Clubhouse. I was actually happy that it was quiet in the club, because I was essentially learning an entirely new job and jumping right into it. I needed the slower pace. Fortunately, there was no mention of the uniform during today’s shift at the desk. I’m still wearing my own clothes. I want to keep it that way.

My day at the desk went by fairly quickly, and I was back in my office by 4 p.m. for a final hour of administration work. Robyn and a bunch of the girls in the office surprised me with a bottle of prosecco, two champagne flutes – so I could channel my inner Mariah Carey – and also a birthday card with Mimi’s picture on it.

Again, that type of gesture was so incredibly sweet. I really didn’t think The Clubhouse was going to do anything for me. Truth be told, I was a bit upset. Upset, but understanding. I mean, today was my fifth day on the job. I’m not exactly buddy-buddy with everyone. Still, that didn’t stop all of my co-workers from signing a birthday card for me. Maybe this job won’t be so horrible after all. That gesture meant a lot.

After stealing some toilet paper from the bathroom at work – if you don’t give me benefits, I’ll create my own – I jumped on the streetcar and met Mom, Dad, and Phillip for dinner at The County General on Queen Street East. The four of us had a great evening together.

I’ve been chatting with this hockey player on Grindr over the past couple of days. Later tonight, after I told him about my family birthday dinner, he said that such a celebration was a sign of me getting older. As in, commemorating my birthday by having a quiet meal with my family. Considering I spent most of my weekend drinking and getting high, I don’t necessarily think that a low-key dinner has anything to do with age. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my family outing.

It’s funny. When I’m at Casa Z, I can’t stand my family. No. Wait. That’s not true. It’s more that I don’t appreciate them as much. However, when I’m downtown, I genuinely miss my family. They’re really cool. On a positive note, I also think that I have made some recent improvements in regard to how I interact with them.

Tonight’s meal with the family was really nice. I think everyone enjoyed themselves. That’s all I wanted, really. Phillip gave me a pass to a really unique spa experience in the city, which I’m looking forward to using once my foot heals up. Mom and Dad said that they wanted to give me something I could “do,” which, in this case, meant that they would facilitate either a family or solo trip wherever I wanted to go. Amazing. I think they’ve finally caught on to my “don’t buy stuff” rule. My apartment is too small for “stuff.” My drawers can’t hold any more “things.” A flight to anywhere is a fantastic gift.

After dinner, we went our separate ways. Mom and Dad went back to Casa Z, and I drove Phillip back to his place so I could take the car to the Witch Cave. During our drive, Phillip asked me what I was doing for the rest of my birthday.

“Honestly, I don’t have anything planned,” I admitted.

This birthday was weird. I think that the exhaustion of the last year and the highs and lows that it brought has now landed me in a spot where I’m finally beginning to calm down. Would I have liked to have gone to the opening night of Mariah Carey’s new residency in Las Vegas tonight? Of course. However, I also want to see my bank account grow. I want to put my paychecks toward something that’s really going to better my future. Since I don’t know what that is right now, I think the best course of action will be to keep a low profile. Continue to silently build my empire, until I am ready to strike.

Talking with Phillip in the car, I also admitted to him how my birthday often signifies a sort of “New Year’s Resolution” for me. With every new age, I like to try and focus on bettering myself in a specific way. As I said in last night’s journal entry – and to Phillip in the car tonight – this year, that means apologizing less. I believe I phrased it as, “Not giving any fucks,” but perhaps that was too harsh.

I’m not a cold-hearted bitch. I do take other people’s feelings into consideration. That’s not what “not giving any fucks” is about. I’m not looking to be mean. What I intend with “apologizing less” is two things:

1. Not apologizing for my likes, interests, or opinions, and being proud of every choice I make. I will make those decisions with my gut, resulting in something very honest.

2. Not excusing the insane behavior of others. If someone is a nasty person or displays questionable behavior, bye-bye baby.

I don’t want to make excuses anymore. Both for myself, and for others. I am done with apologizing. I’m probably not making any sense right now. Cut me some slack. It’s 1 a.m., and I’m fucking tired.

It’s been quite the birthday. Quite the year, really. I’m looking forward to making the most of every day from here on in. Not to mention, I’m also halfway through this foot recovery saga. Tomorrow is a new day, and a new bandage.

I wish I received messages from those two guys, but it is what it is. At the end of the day, I feel loved, I’m feeling happier, and I feel as though I’m ready to take on a lot more in my life. I also feel like a beached whale after consuming what can only be described as a “county fair” for dinner, but that’s a whole other issue.

I’m thankful for my family. I’m happy I got to spend my birthday with them.

Happy birthday, Kurty.

Goodnight xo