Stephanie and Somebody

So last night I went to a birthday party for my friend, Shanelle. Her mother is Jewish, her father is black, and we went to Don Cuco's in Glendale, which is the reason for the title of the post. (I don't know how the joke ends, but if you think of something funny, please post.) I sat way at the opposite end of a long string of tables arranged together, making strangers laugh so that I wouldn't have to go to the trouble of getting to know them. I ate a fried burrito; the guacamole was fresh and chunky (nicely done, Senor Cuco).

It got me thinking about birthdays, mine and other people's. I am bad at birthdays. I didn't get Shanelle anything, a fact that only occurrred to me just now as I am writing this with her sitting in our apartment enjoying the AC and DSL, among other acronyms. Is she mad? Probably not. By now she knows that I am a bastard, but she wants to be my friend anyway. Yes, she is kind of crazy (see for yourself at seriously-meh.blogspot.com).

Getting people birthday cards and presents is something of a deontological process for me--I do it because I think it is my duty. I want to be a good friend, brother, husband, son, whatever, and this is something people appreciate. But I just don't do it automatically. I guess no one really does it automatically. No one finds themselves borne against their will to, well, wherever birthday presents come from (this kind of ignorance may be part of my problem).

All I know is that I am in the middle of a birthday backlog. My niece had a birthday in May, and it sprang up all at once, before I even knew it (yes, I know how a calendar works, but it's so rigid and formal and boxy). I couldn't think of the best thing to get her--one major reason why I am birthday-retentive--so I waited for inspiration. The birthday came before the inspiration did, which meant that a late present really had to be something spectacular. I am still waiting for inspiration. In the meantime, a few other birthdays have come and gone (including my mom's), but I feel obliged to address my niece's birthday needs first. (I'm not sure if this is what Paul meant by "all things in order.")

So now I am basically cut off from my family. I cannot see or talk to them, because they might know that I've missed some birthdays for no good reason, and that I still don't know what I am going to do about it. No plan for birthdays, no plan in life. Suckage.

So now what? Do I just concede that I am not good at birthdays? Do I get stuff for people when I have a good idea, but remain incommunicado otherwise?

I think being bad at birthdays is just a red herring. I think I may be bad at relationships. That's the deeper concern. (This is not an invitation for comments about how I am, in fact, good at relationships.) Steph was telling me that she prioritizes her relationships--what does she want, and how close does she want to be in a particular friendship? I just kind of float along, and the friends who make contact with me get a response. But what about the people who don't initiate? Well, I think you probably know the answer to that question from your own experience.

So happy birthday to all! If I missed it, it's probably because I don't remember when your birthday is. But, if it makes you feel any better, I do at least feel guilty about forgetting you. This is who I am, and if I am to change at all, it will be many missed birthdays from now.