Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday. I've looked at it with apathy for the most part, but birthdays are weird. When you're a kid, you meet your "special day" head on with as much excitement as you would for Christmas. Even those of us who have the birthday where you were essentially ripped off growing up. A January 6th birthday falls right after 2 weeks of solid holiday time and more times than not, it's the day you have to go back to school or work and people sometimes forget. When you're older, this is the time of year people start their recovery from the holidays. No one wants to spend money- I don't want to spend money, I just spent cash flow on things I don't get to enjoy for myself- yes, I enjoyed the whole gift of giving, not to downplay the holiday spirit blah, blah, blah...humbug. Plus there's this new thing of Sober January- whaaat?
I get it, I understand it, I accept it. Except the sober January thing. Don't be ridiculous.
For the month of December in 1981, I gave my Mom hell. I tell her it was fair warning that I wasn't going to be an easy child to raise, half joking, half serious. My Dad was upset I wasn't born in '81 because of tax reasons...half joking, half serious. That's the way it worked out though. I made them wait a whole tax season before they could claim me as a dependent. 33 years later, sorry about that folks- as an adult anyway, I get the whole taxes thing now even though I don't have kids.
I like celebrating my friends and family's birthdays. I want them to feel my appreciation for them being alive. As for my birthday, it's no big deal, we don't have to make a to do about it- especially if it's not on a weekend as I get up at 5am and by 9pm I turn into a pumpkin. George Carlin doesn't want me to care about my birthday anymore since I'm not 5 (it's 5 right?). I don't want to care about my birthday anymore either- but try as I might, I do. Why?
As a society, growing up birthdays are made out to be a big deal. They are instilled in us as something to be celebrated. The whoopsie-dasiy surprise I was, turned into the family I completed. Riiiight, Mom??
One year, I think I was 8, I got bed sheets and a jewelry box. Not to sound ungrateful, but what kind of shit is that? Where were the toys? Also, in our household it was tradition to pick out your birthday dessert and I remember finding the most beautiful pie I had ever seen. It had giant, luscious strawberries on it. I vividly remember picking it out with my Mom and she looked just as excited about it as I did. That evening, after dinner she cut into it, giving me the first slice and as I took a bite of this beautiful pie that I had waited all day for, it was the most bitter, foul tasting thing I had ever eaten in my young life. I wanted a do-over. But there were no do-overs. My folks did the best they could and getting a 2nd birthday dessert because the first one was disappointing wasn't going to happen.
There's no real underline meaning to any of this. I certainly don't mean to complain about turning another year older. It is what it is and honestly, I'm ok with that. There are few of us who look forward to getting older- I for one cannot wait for my AARP membership for $7 car insurance. Seriously. Those people are hounding me now. Maybe they know my love for knitting and Jeopardy? I swear I'm going to be 33, not 80.
So there are are no do-overs and there are no take backs. I'm in a spot in my life right now where my story is getting good. My career is taking off, I'm excited about what I do and I get paid for it. How cool is that?! I have the most amazing people in my life and they want to be apart of it. All and all, 33 doesn't seem so bad. Life is well enough to not get discouraged about age. I just need more books and time to read.
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