At what age do you stop putting your number of years in candles on top of your birthday cake? I think when (if) I turn 90, I’m going to request from my grandkids exactly that amount of candles on top of my futuristic, hologram, low-sugar cake. Fingers crossed that it’s easy enough to eat with dentures and shaky arthritic hands.
It’s the one day of the year where you can celebrate yourself. Except every day should be a celebration of life cause you gotta love yourself, obviously. Anyway, a lot of people take the day for granted as being their day and that the world suddenly revolves around them in those precious 24 hours. But that’s just not cool.
It was my birthday a few days ago and I’m officially a year older. What happened in the past year? I honestly don’t have a clue. I feel like I’ve done things and been to places and grown as a person in certain ways but I can’t seem to recall any specific examples off the top of my head. That aside, I’m fairly content with everything that’s happened because I’m at a point in my life where I feel like I have a slight grip on reality again. I’ve spent so long stuck in my head and feeling overwhelmed with having to make decisions that I keep avoiding. I’ve had sleepless nights where my brain lists for me all the things I need to get done or even start, and the motivation to work through those things eludes me constantly.
I haven’t thought about my New Year’s Resolutions in a long time and to be perfectly honest, I’m not quite eager to do so because I know I haven’t kept up with many (if any at all.) Man, I really gotta go get that goldfish. It would require a lot of care and thought – I’m aware that everyone thinks goldfish are basically the easiest pet to have but I would feel guilty if I didn’t do enough research to give it the best home ever, especially since I’ve had all sorts of things going on lately. Well at least that’s my excuse not to get one right now. My favourite part is going to be picking out the cutest little guy to take back home. Thinking up the perfect name is going to be the worst.
I will admit, there’s a bad relationship between me and my birthday. You could call it love-hate. There’s tough history involved and expectations that can never be met, in and amongst letdowns and disappointments. The explanation behind all this isn’t interesting and I’m not deluding myself into thinking I’m the only one out there who has these feelings. But when the 23rd of May comes around again next year, I’m going to make myself handle the pressure I unconsciously pile up in my mind much better. I mean, I’ll turn 23 on the 23rd! Yeah that’s not exciting for anyone other than me.
My actual birthday was pretty great this year. I was given flowers from someone I volunteer for, had an early celebratory dinner with family, received a package in the mail from a good friend across the country, spent the day playing with an adorable kitten, went out to St. Kilda for the night, and I got an unexpectedly lovely present from someone I really care about.
I guess I’m feeling 22.
(I don’t actually like that T-Swizzle song but it’s inevitable for this occasion.)