miserableosity.

If you look up miserableosity, in a dictionary, you won't find it because it's not a word, but if you ask me about it, I'll tell my that my bat mitzvah was the epitome of miserableosity.
The day started out okay. my hair was poofy, I had a stupid pair of pants on, and my mom made me wear ugly purple eyeshadow. The night before, I had helped set up my party. I was up pretty late, but whatever, yeah? I get to the temple. Adira was the first to arrive. My photographer was there. She was about three feet tall or something and her pictures were ugly but she was there. She snapped some shots of me with my friends and then we had family pictures. Yawn.
My service was the normal boring service. My grandma couldn't pronounce "tikkun olam" and I didn't say my speches loud enough. I froze up on my torah portion, so the the cantor had to feed me the words, whispering through the poof that was my head from behind me. Everyone swore I did wonderfully. I had a little luncheon after the service with some really tasty bagels and manechewitz. We all thought we were totally badass because we drank 14 of those teeny tiny cups of barely fermented wine.
Afterwards, torie came over. I changed out of my stupid outfit and got into some jammie. We went to the park with my guitar for a bit and then decided to get back to the house to get ready. I changed into my uglyass blue dress. My hair wouldn't cooperate, so I had ugly hair. I guess I put it up in a clip or something. I drew a little heart on my face with eyeliner. Like I said, we all thought we were badass.
We got there. Things were okay. Some people were totally lame and didn't show up. Some people were really lame because they showed up in ratty jeans and ripped shirts.
The food was great. My DJ sucked. My friends were, for the most part, fine. My photographer, damn her, was back again.
My ex came and crashed. This was especially bad because I still had MAJOR feelings for her and my best friends ditched me the whole night to hang out with her and her friends. I cried in the bathroom at my own bat mitzvah while everyone was inside dancing to my stupid DJ wondering where I was. My candle lighting ceremony was miserable. We didn't know that you were supposed to pick out music to play in the background before the party, so it was lame. My best friend didn't come in for the candle lighting. It wasn't cool enough, I guess. I cried more. Adira and India comforted me and Misti got mad at me for not spending time with my other guests.
People ask me why I still reflect on my bat mitzvah. I guess it's because everyone always talks about how wonderful theirs was. It's not like a birthday party that went bad. This is a once in a lifetime thing, religious-wise and otherwise. It really upset me that my once in a lifetime event that was supposed to be wonderful was the worst night of my life. Truly honestly, I can't think of a night, or even a day, that was worse than that. Not even when I was puking my lungs out or the night when my cat died.
I only have one picture on my computer from my bat mitzvah. It's from my sisters myspace. I just don't want to remember any more of my bat mitzvah than necessary. Besides, like I said, my photographer sucked.

February 25th, 2006