Levi’s Bloaaaahg

Last Saturday I had a party for my friends and family in honor of my 23rd birthday. That was nice, but the actual birthday feeling wasn’t there. Maybe because my real birthday was yesterday. But the problem is, that on my real birthday, the feeling was nowhere to be found either.
So, I’m aging, without the feeling of aging. Suppose there’s nothing wrong with that? Guess again. It’s the whole point of being the center of attention (I’m a total slut for attention) and everyone congratulating you on how good you look, even if you just added up a number. And there were only two people who could congratulate me in person yesterday; my roommate and my girlfriend. And they both got me really great gifts.
I had to work a night shift and none of my colleagues had the slightest idea that was my day. In fact, no one even probably knew. But before the clock stroked 9 a.m. I got 2 phone calls, 5 text messages and 5 messages on Hyves. Decent score.
Later that evening, I went for sushi with Lois. She told me that she was a bit jealous of me. That there are so many people that like me.
“One of your friends called all the way from the States, your roommate’s little brother called you from the Middle East. You got tons of text messages, phone calls and e-mails. People really like you.”
“I like it when people like me. I try to be like-able. In fact, some people don’t like me for that. I sometimes don’t like myself for that.”
But she’s right, I shouldn’t bitch about it. I got so many happy birthday wishes yesterday, I didn’t even get the chance to thank everyone. So. Everyone: thank you. I like you all very much.

Oh jolly, I just remembered a conversation I had a couple of weeks ago. This dude came up to me and told me my shoes didn’t match my trousers. I looked down at my light brownish pants and my blue shoes. Looked perfectly fine to me. I then stared at the dude and told him: “How am I the one to take fashion advice from a guy who’s wearing a fricking tweed jacket with leather fricking patches on the elbows?”
There. I said it. Well, without the fricking. But the message was clear.

We all started out together, three years ago already. From the beginning on there was a certain group of people that I liked hanging out with. We started doing things outside of school activities. Things friends do together. Cinema, diner, dancing. You know the drill. Some of them got more acquainted to one another. For some it took me a while to gain their respect and trust.
We’re now three years up ahead in our lives. Paths have started to form. Relationships were ended, or started. And some were taken to a higher level. In a way, you can say that we’ve, or at least most of us, have changed into “real” adults. And there are some people in our group that regret this.
I, myself, have been accused of “changing” too. And not in a good way, according to the accusatives. I’ve become more distant, I don’t have my priorities, friends-wise, worked out and I tend to please too much. Well, so be it. If three years of university and Amsterdam have turned me into the person I am today, I don’t care. In fact, I am pretty darn fricking happy with the person I am nowadays. I know I have some (major) flaws, but hey, no one’s perfect.
But still, sometimes, I too long back to my first year in Amsterdam. Henk Admiraal, de Deugniet on a random wednesday evening, my mattress on the floor. Too bad not everything is lasting. To quote Sufjan Stevens, all things go.