I am reminded today of when I quit my job at the Gwinnett County Library in Lilburn, Georgia, and on my last day, they brought food in. Half way through this party, the other Indian kid working there (maybe Mr. Smith remembers his name) mentioned that it was his last day also. No two weeks, nothing. Just right there.
So what was my party turned into "our" party, and my petty heart thought it odd at the time, and still thinks it's odd.
Being my 24th birthday today, we're not really doing anything. Working the whole day and heading home at 9pm doesn't leave much celebration time. We're also dead tired normally, and Jennifer hasn't been feeling well of late. It's strange to say this, but I guess I don't really care that it's my birthday.
My boss bought a cake and she and the morning student decorated our office with balloons and streamers, and while very nice, I guess I just don't care so much.
Also, I maybe be bummed out because I turned in my U Iowa Writer's Workshop application, and while down there, I have obviously annoyed the secretary over the last 2/3 years.
"By the way, who is Deb West? I just was wanting to put a name with the face."
"I am," a woman raised her hand. "What's your name?"
"Amish Trivedi. I've been annoying you via email," I said, jokingly.
"Oh yeah," seriously.
"But I've been good this Fall."
"Yeah, you've been better..."
I'm such a fucking dumbass.
24 years and nadda to show. The next one isn't looking better now, either.