Another Excursion Around the Sun

First, I must address the change in the title of this blog.  If you have read the previous blog regarding my hair, you are well apprised that I no longer have a fro’ due to a tragic flat iron incident about this time last year.  A moment of silence please for my fallen fro’.  Also, let us face it, even when I did have a fro’ I did not have a picture of myself with one.  So this blog name is now accurate.  I feel lighter now that I got that off my chest, even though I wish I were a few pounds of fluff lighter, but that is subject matter better left to a future blog.  However, we now return to the original blog at hand.

So, here I am, encroaching upon yet another birthday.  One more trip around the sun on this journey that began many years ago, even though I have somehow managed to look like I have not taken that many voyages around that golden orb that warms our planet.  So at least I have that much going for me, which is nice.  Otherwise, I am not looking forward to it.

I have never really liked my birthday.  Most of the memorable ones have been for tragically embarrassing reasons.  Let us not forget the car accident on my 16^th birthday DURING my driver’s license road test, and the infamous breakdown on my 22^nd birthday.  I do not think I will ever live that down, but at least I got it out of my system then rather than at an older age where such behavior would really be embarrassing.  I will blame it on my immature youth and alcohol.  Mostly alcohol.  For sure the alcohol.  Damn alcohol. 

Really, the top two birthdays happened in the past two years.  Two years ago, I spent my birthday in Safad, my mother’s Palestinian hometown in what is now Israel.  I saw my mother’s home that my grandfather built for his family; I touched the stones, sat on the steps, walked the streets, and picked lemons from the lemon tree that was in the backyard.  I also took back the knocker and handle from the back gate.  Those were my family's, and I gave them to my mom, their rightful owner, as gifts.   I almost missed that chance because we did not know where the exact house was, and as my hosts and I were in the car ready to leave, in my head I had wished that for my birthday I could see my mother’s home.  Not one minute later, we were stopped by the historian of Safad, and he knew the house and took me there.

Last year, I got to spend my birthday with my family.  My mom, dad, sister, brother and I have not been alone together as a family like that in almost 20 years.  We all met in Washington D.C. in honor of my brother, an FBI Special Agent, who was accepting the Attorney General’s Award for a case he had worked on involving cybercrime.  I could not have asked for a better birthday than to spend it with my family to celebrate my brother’s accomplishment.

Now here I am again, but with nothing monumental happening.  No Oscar wins, or Nobel Prizes.  I cannot even claim a new car.  Man, I really want a new car.  But I digress.  I do not know why my birthday puts me in such a mood.  I have had a wonderful past six months and have no reason to be bummed.  I have made an amazing new friend that I always hangout with, as well as a new group of friends that I see and spend time with often.  Despite a rocky start, this has truly been the best year of my time here in L.A. emotionally and socially.  I have some great people in my life, have been to some great events that some people would kill to have gone to, and despite a recently acquired new job that I do not like that makes me cry often, I have never been happier.  Yet I feel sad.  Mostly due to the job that makes me cry, a lot, and because I want a new car and shoes, but also because of my birthday.  Stupid job and birthday, making me blue.  I need a shame shower now.

I know this feeling will go away after that fateful day in which I was born to this world (you are welcome) passes, but until then, this feeling will remain.  Sniff.  Even though I have some wonderful people in my life, I feel lonely during this time.  I have no family in L.A., and I know that is one of the reasons behind these feelings of melancholy, and the fact that there is no significant other is another.  I had always thought that at this point in my life that I would have a successful career in entertainment, and be married to Ricky Martin (Read "A Part of me Died on Monday") and getting ready to start a family of half Palestinian and half Puerto Rican children.  They would have been brown and beautiful with rhythm.  A moment of silence please for those children that will never be.

Yet I remain single, I am not even Ricky’s beard, living alone in a one-bedroom condo that granted I own, and doing a job that I do not like that makes me cry, a lot, and is the cause of copious shame showers.  No dreams have come true, and I do not feel that sense of accomplishment I had hoped to have had by this age.  I think those are the real reasons.  Not about getting older or aging, for there are wonderful medical procedures to remedy those problems, it is about just not being where I thought and wanted to be by now.  Ask the chubster teenage Yasmine many moons and pounds ago, and this would not have been her dream life.  Parts of it, for sure, like many of the wonderful experiences I have had, but not all of it. 

I know, I am exactly where I am supposed to be and everything happens for a reason, blah blah and such and such, but something has got to give soon.  I am too old for this shit.  Frankly, I am tired of the struggle.  I know it is not about the destination, but about the journey, but damn it all to hell, I am ready for the journey to be less turbulent and I am tired of the TSA of life asking for and performing a cavity search.  However, despite my whining of which I am told I am annoyingly good at, I am incredibly grateful for the life and opportunities I have which have not gone unnoticed.  I have my health, an amazing family, amazing friends, live in an incredible city, own my own home, have the freedom to do as I please, no roommates, I am super awesome and ridiculously good looking (not in the morning, really, it is quite tragic and unsettling), and really have a lot going for me.  I just do not like my birthday. 

I do not even have anything planned and would honestly be fine just spending it at home eating popcorn (mmmmm, popcorn) and watching a movie.  I just want it to go away.  Unless something super awesome happens, like the windfall I have been wishing for so I can retire early.  That would make life really nice if I did not have to work anymore and were able to buy my dream home.

So as of this writing, I have no bloody idea what I am doing to celebrate the day of my birth 23 years ago (shut up, I know that age is a lie, just go with it damn it.  I also lie about my weight and dye my hair, get over it), but I am sure it will be spent with some amazing people no matter how low key it is and will be filled with much laughter, and they will definitely make me feel good about my birthday even though I am currently not too happy about it.  This is just the same old song and dance I do every year, but hopefully this will be the last year I feel this way.  I am very blessed to be alive, and celebrate my life in different ways everyday, because I truly am grateful for it.  However, if anyone can help me out with that windfall to make my birthday happy, you will really make things great for me and will kindly save me from yet another shame shower.