Last post was my thirtieth blog post. That has to mean something. I don’t commit to things easily. Honestly I didn’t think I would commit to blogging and I still don’t know why I blog. Is it my version of Dumbledore’s pensive? Is there a tiny part of me that actually believes that someday someone other than my mom and best friend will read it? I really don’t know, but it looks like I’m here to stay. And so to celebrate my thirty-first post I will write down whatever comes into my head.
I was talking to a good friend of mine a little while ago, she’s about to turn fourteen, and I routinely asked her if she was excited. She said she wasn’t really. That got me thinking. When I turned fourteen, a little while ago, I wasn’t either. Don’t get me wrong, I was looking forward to it, but the old spark of excitement that used to come with being a whole year older, had left. I didn’t even lie awake the night before thinking about all the presents I’d get.
Do you remember your fifth birthday? I sure do, I was mainly thrilled about all the presents I would surely get and there was also the excitement of being a whole hand but in age (that was always awesome) There were a few expectations about the bike I hoped to get and how I would ride it without training wheels because I would be so big, but other than that I was focused on cake and presents.
As I grew older the excitement over presents and cake began to die down and was replaced by silly expectations. When I turned ten, I had tons of exciting expectations before me. I would be so big! And even cooler than I thought V was. At the time she was thirteen and, I thought, the epitome of cool. She says she was geeky and awkward, but I didn’t believe it. That might have had some part in all the expectations. When I turned thirteen, I expected to be as cool as my ten year old self’s idealized version of V when she was thirteen. It was a deadly downward spiral. It hasn’t ruined any birthdays, but in the past it has made me feel worse about myself than I should have have but oh well. It’s becoming water under the bridge. This has been the random writings of Leila. Thank you for tuning in.