Tomorrow is my 31st birthday. It's a bittersweet milestone. I'm officially IN my thirties. I look at my life and I am no where near where I wanted to be at this point. It's weird when you're like 16, 31 seems so far off and you have these visions of where you'll be, what you'll do, and what you'll have accomplished. But then life plays out and the gap between the life you envisioned and the life you're living grows wider and wider.

I called my birthday party a Celebration of All Things Beautiful: Life, Love, and Me. What a farce. From where I'm standing today, life is blah, love stinks, and me? Well, I still look good. Planning this birthday in the midst of a breakup has been the most hollow, empty experience ever. I don't even feel like celebrating. Which is strange for me because I believe my birthday should be a National Holiday. But my friends would kill me. So to avoid death on my birthday, I planned this celebration. I feel like I'm doing this more for them than for me. I'll show up, smile, laugh, drink, eat, drink, dance, drink (in that order) like I'm supposed to. But I will still feel empty. I hope my performance wins me an award from the Academy.

Yesterday on the subway, an Asian guy hit on me!! I was flabbergasted. He told me I was beautiful and asked me for my number. I kind of stammered out that I had a boyfriend, since that's been my automatic response for a while and I didn't know what else to say (yes, I thanked him for the compliment! I may be going through some thangs but I'm not rude!!! LOL). I should have given him my phone number. We could have had a tribe of video vixens or maybe even some Caublinasions like Tiger. He got off at my stop (another shock. I'm still adjusting to this new Harlem). Maybe I'll see him again.