My celebration of Rosanna Arquette’s birthday was as low-key as I’d hoped. My only regret is that Harris-Teeter was out of every flavor of cake slices except “gay.” All the same, it was pretty good, even though I was really more in the mood for chocolate.

The annual pontifications:

• There is absolutely nothing particularly interesting or special about being 54. It’s sort of like being 37.
• One bad thing about this birthday is that it’s the first one I am spending as an orphan. And yes, I still feel like an orphan, even at 54.
• My life is not as exciting as it was a few decades ago, but in many ways, I’m enjoying it more. Having enough money to live on and enough experience to know better than to do really stupid things helps. I’m happier than I’ve been in years.
• Spending a bigger proportion of my time traveling and exploring is a big part of why.
• So is having a job career that I love.
• So is remembering how much I love being single and independent.
• As I have said many times before, perspective and context are essential in every aspect of life.
• I’ve never been more frightened about the direction of my country. Strangely enough, I’m also managing to maintain more optimism than I expected at this point.
• If you don’t get your ass out and vote on 6 November, I no longer want to know you on 7 November.

17 October 1930 – 5 June 2018

Torture: When you really need to take a piss, but you can’t because you’re dreaming that you’re having a conversation with someone who won’t shut the fuck up long enough for you to excuse yourself.

I’ve been having very vivid dreams lately. I seem to be sleeping really well in general, only waking up once a night (which qualifies as “really well” for me.) I’m not sure if the dreams are a result of all the allergy medications or just of my anxiety about the fact that the country is, you know, falling apart at the hands of a mentally ill cartoon villain.

But the dreams keep coming.

And they’re exhausting.

A running theme in my dreams seems to be that I find myself endlessly walking around large cities, apparently looking for something. I’m usually not alone; I tend to be either with a colleague from work, an old friend I haven’t talked to in years, or an ex. Sometimes my companion turns into someone else over the course of the dream. But we’re always walking.

After several years of observing wandering behavior in dementia patients while visiting my mom, I’ve started wondering about whether there might be a connection. Does my future involve wandering around the nursing home thinking I’m in Manhattan looking for some mysterious something?

I think I need a nap now…