Today is my birthday. Yes, thanks for posting on my Facebook wall. Some people call it a milestone, an accomplishment. Do they have such little faith in me? Do they find my life so dangerous? Or did they think I’d off myself by now?
It’s not an issue of age. I look forward to getting older. There is so much ahead: career advancement, falling in love, developing deeper friendships—infinite adventures. There are a whole bunch of places I haven’t been and a long list of books I haven’t read. The future is the most exciting part. My laugh lines will speak for themselves.
Throwing parties in New York is stressful. I can’t expect my friends to pay for dinner, drinks, and dancing (like I so often get dragged into). I can’t front the bill, either. And this Manhattan shoebox apartment can’t fit the crowds my Chicago loft did. I’m left without a celebration venue. I don’t like birthday cake either—too wary of calories and candles (though I endorse a strong birthday cocktail). I think it’s a birthday faux pas not to eat your own cake.
Sometimes I miss my elementary school days, when all you needed was ice cream cake, silly string, and a roller rink to throw a rockin’ party.
Actually, that sounds pretty awesome right now. (As long as they serve beer.)
Posted in Begrudged Maturity, Holidays, Societal Woes
Tagged accomplishments, adventure, aging, apartment, beer, birthday cake, birthday parties, birthdays, celebration, chicago, cocktails, facebook, faux pas, friendships, getting older, growing up, ice cream cake, laugh lines, manhattan, milestones, new york, parites, roller skating, suicide