31 is the new Son of a....

Tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be 31. Hard to believe that I've been around for 3 decades now. Seems kind of silly when I think about it - silly in a "you just blew my freaking mind" kind of way. And I gotta tell you - this year's bday is bumming me out. I've been irritable and tense all week in the lead up to this year's joyous event, despite the awesome plans I made with my closest friends. I should be bouncing off the walls, foaming at the mouth and chomping at the bit to get this party started.
But I'm not.
I've been trying to pinpoint where I went wrong and why I feel so, well, fucking empty about the whole thing. I feel unremarkable. There's no wonder and excitement about it anymore. I feel like a kid who has just discovered that Santa doesn't exist, that the tooth fairy is a whore. I used to wake up with a feeling that anything was possible. That those who loved me would make it magical.
My father died on my birthday 4 years ago. I received a call from my father's wife while I was at work. "Hilary, please call me back." Knowing what she was going to tell me, I asked those in charge if I could make a long distance call. "I think my father just died. I have to make a call to confirm it." This was met with "Ohhh - do you have calling card?" The motherfuckers wouldn't even let me call to get the news that my father had died. How can you celebrate your birthday when those are the memories associated with it?
I don't mean to complain or whine because I've got it really, really good. And I am loved deeply and fully by so many. But Goddammit - some memories are too hard to gloss over.
So - what to do? I'll wake up, go to work and then revel in the merriment and good tidings that will be bestowed upon me. I'll eat a fabulous meal with those I love and drink far, far too much. There might be tears. There will, however, definitely be laughter.