Of Sharks and Sweets

14,048 Days Alive

Less Than 12 Hours to my Birthday

Mentally I’m okay. Physically, I’m exhausted. In a good way. I had an Adventure today with Reffie and it was amazing, even if it took us two hours to get back to Tampa.

For my birthday surprise, Reffie took me out to breakfast at a place called “The Attic”. I had huevos rancheros for the first time! It was pretty good. I’d definitely go back to The Attic for breakfast.

After The Attic, we went over the Skyway Bridge and to Sarasota. Our destination? The oddly set up but wonderful experience that is The Mote Marine Laboratory and Aquarium!

I got to pet a shark and a manta! And a guitar fish which head butted my hand for affection! I could go on and on in shouty exclamation points, but I shan’t. We also saw some adorable axolotls, some spiffy seahorses, and utterly adorable otters. And a caiman! Which is not a gator, damn it.

I think petting the creatures was my favorite part, other than spending the day with a loved one of course. And I could have stared at the jellyfish tanks for hours without pause. They’re just so pretty!

Seeing the manatees made me remember two good memories: one with Steph when we went to Blue Spring State Park and swam in the water with the mama and baby manatee and the other was my late maternal grandmother. She’s been gone a long damn time but I remember how much she loved manatees.

Off topic I suppose, but still relevant. Anyway, thanks to traffic, rain, and the rampant stupidity of the general populace, it took us forever and a half to get back to where Reffie lives. But we managed and I had a blast today.

The negative mental radio is playing down the metaphorical hall tonight. Not as loud and as bad as it has been. Even though I feel a failure for so many things, Reffie pointed out I made it to almost-36. So now I have to look at what forty looks like, forty-five, fifty, sixty! Aging doesn’t bother me beyond the potential failure of various bodily parts. But it doesn’t scare me. I just don’t know how much time I’ll get and I really should make the most of what time past 16 I was given.

Why sixteen? Well, for those of you lovely folks who don’t understand my subtext here, I’ll be blunt. That’s the first time I tried to kill myself. So. Borrowed time? Gifted time? Meant to be time? Who knows!?

Anyway. It’s about seven hours till my birthday of 5:09 a.m. I’m headed to bed.

Take your meds, folks!