Moonpluto started a thread about classical music this morning which got me watching a bunch of Lang Lang videos. If you’re a Lang Lang fan, you know you don’t just sit back and listen to him play. You watch. You watch him emote, you watch him play the music with his hands and his face and his whole body.   If you don’t know who Lang Lang is look him up. He’s a Gemini Sun/Pisces moon pianist from Shenyang. ..And I love him.  But that’s not the point of this story…

The point is…as I was watching him play, I boarded a very long train of thought and ended up getting off on my 23rd birthday.

TK and I both had family in the Seattle area.  So, that’s where we went. It was our first trip together to somewhere real.  It coincided with my birthday week.

We spent about 3 days at my sister’s house in Tacoma. I really wanted to stay there a little longer but TK had more people to see. So we packed up and went to his aunt’s house in Seattle.  We arrived on my birthday.

I keep mentioning my birthday here because it was kind of a big deal to me at the time.  I’ve since gotten over the annual desire for hoopla but when I was 23, hoopla sounded good.

So anyway, as we drove into to town I spied a little pizza place in his aunt’s neighborhood that looked like something I’d like to try.  ”That’s where I want to go tonight.” I thought to myself.  ”We’ll order pizza, share a pitcher of beer, have ice cream and sing Happy Birthday to me!”

After we got settled in (i.e. put our bags down) TK’s aunt starts carrying on about how the Greek festival is going on, and how wonderful the Greek festival is, and how we all simply MUST go to the Greek festival.

So we’re standing there and I say “I was really hoping we could go to that pizza place tonight.”

“Oh, but the Greek festival is going on!” she cried.

I look at TK.  I say nothing out loud, but I am pleading with my eyes.  ”Please tell her it’s my birthday. Please. Please tell her.”

He says…”Yeah Nota, the Greek festival. Let’s go to the Greek festival.”

Mother Fucker.

I am stunned. Does he not know it’s my birthday? He knows.  We were talking about it in the car earlier. What the fuck is wrong with him? I just stand there, throwing continuous eye daggers through him.  Why can’t he read this expression? Fucking say something you fucking piece of shit! At least ask me why I would rather go somewhere else tonight so that I can casually bring up my birthday and I don’t have to be the aggressive ”but it’s my birthday girl.”

Nothing. He walks off or something. End scene.

I decide I’m going to have a birthday stand off at this point. I will not mention that it is my birthday until he does. Which if he doesn’t do soon, I am going to get increasingly pissier.

………………………………………

“Nota, Nota, try the Gyro, it’s so good Nota!” his aunt is gleefully running around the festival double fisting gyros and poking them under people’s noses.

“Oh, I would, but I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh shit, well there isn’t much here for you then. You can eat the baklava right?”

“I’m gonna step out for a smoke.”

I had a little pouch of bugler on me and had a devil of a time rolling one up in the wind that picked up just as I stepped outside.  When I went back in, everyone (TK, TK’s Aunt, his two cousins and uncle) were all missing.  I heard a loud “huhhzah!” or some such shout and looked in the middle of a large dancing crowd.  There they all were, gay as folk, just living it up.

Mother Fuckers.

I was so pissed. This was not what I wanted to happen.

It was years, literally years later that I realized I should of just said something. Like “Hey, it’s my birthday.” Even if we had still gone to the festival, I wouldn’t have had such a bug up my butt. I had decided to make TK responsible for my happiness and was sore over his inability to deliver (i.e. read my mind.)

I already asked this question on the boards this morning, but I’ll ask it again…

Have you ever made someone emotionally responsible for you?

If you can’t remember, watch this Lang Lang video and maybe it will come to you.

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