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Jul. 4th, 2007 09:11 amI don't remember when I stopped really celebrating the 4th of July. When we were little, if we were at my grandmother's, it was all part of the vacation. Swim, eat, see family, pass out, sunburnt to a crisp, but happy. If we were home, we'd wait for dark to fall and then we'd stand out on the front porch and wait for the fireworks to begin. Some years the view was better than others.
Actually, I take it back. I think I stopped celebrating was the year my grandfather was in the hospital for the 4th. I don't know why I stopped though. Just... did. Maybe it's one of those things where nothing can live up to these memories you built up as a kid, though that's kind of doubtful. Maybe it's because for three years straight, my plans ended horribly or at least awkwardly. Like, the year we went out to the Yorktown to see the big display. I'd never done that before, and while I have fond memories of sitting along the road, waiting for someone's parents to pick us up and being used as a pillow, it was not what anyone would call a successful outing, what with the car breaking and all. Then there was the year we were to have a cookout at the park, only the other half of the group never showed. Instead they blew us off, acted like it was our fault for the whole mess, and went to Taco Bell while leaving us dying of hunger. [I think it was one of those things where either we had the food and they had the grill, or they had the food and we had the grill. I don't know. It was a mess.] Either way, it ended in a screaming match, weirdly cooked hamburgers, and finding out that my best friend told someone she didn't even like at the time something before she told me. For the record, she didn't tell me this particular bit of news for another two or so years. The year in between I think was spent here, and we were supposed to do something, but it never actually happened, and the trees had grown so much in the last year that we couldn't see a damn thing, firework wise. It lacked the spectacular flameout of the surrounding years, sure, but it was somehow worse. At least the other two rewarded me with stories, even if they're of no interest to anyone who isn't me. That year was just dull. I... don't fully understand why, either, since the month and a half surrounding it were so filled with teenage angst and drama that you'd think we'd have done something for the holiday of joy. Hmm. Perhaps we did and I blocked it from memory? Nah.
Anyway. May your day be fantastic and filled with things on fire. In a good way.
Oh, and I fully support:
Because fucking with the charts is always encouraged. Go on, do your part. They've done all the hard work for you. All you have to do is donate a tiny smidge to the cause.
Actually, I take it back. I think I stopped celebrating was the year my grandfather was in the hospital for the 4th. I don't know why I stopped though. Just... did. Maybe it's one of those things where nothing can live up to these memories you built up as a kid, though that's kind of doubtful. Maybe it's because for three years straight, my plans ended horribly or at least awkwardly. Like, the year we went out to the Yorktown to see the big display. I'd never done that before, and while I have fond memories of sitting along the road, waiting for someone's parents to pick us up and being used as a pillow, it was not what anyone would call a successful outing, what with the car breaking and all. Then there was the year we were to have a cookout at the park, only the other half of the group never showed. Instead they blew us off, acted like it was our fault for the whole mess, and went to Taco Bell while leaving us dying of hunger. [I think it was one of those things where either we had the food and they had the grill, or they had the food and we had the grill. I don't know. It was a mess.] Either way, it ended in a screaming match, weirdly cooked hamburgers, and finding out that my best friend told someone she didn't even like at the time something before she told me. For the record, she didn't tell me this particular bit of news for another two or so years. The year in between I think was spent here, and we were supposed to do something, but it never actually happened, and the trees had grown so much in the last year that we couldn't see a damn thing, firework wise. It lacked the spectacular flameout of the surrounding years, sure, but it was somehow worse. At least the other two rewarded me with stories, even if they're of no interest to anyone who isn't me. That year was just dull. I... don't fully understand why, either, since the month and a half surrounding it were so filled with teenage angst and drama that you'd think we'd have done something for the holiday of joy. Hmm. Perhaps we did and I blocked it from memory? Nah.
Anyway. May your day be fantastic and filled with things on fire. In a good way.
Oh, and I fully support:
Because fucking with the charts is always encouraged. Go on, do your part. They've done all the hard work for you. All you have to do is donate a tiny smidge to the cause.