Dear Birthday

23 Mar

Dear Birthday,

So! It’s my birthday today, along with at least two people I went to school with and two grandpas of people I went to school with.

I try not to take birthdays as days of reflection and assessment. Why ruin a perfectly good cake day with all that thinking? Besides, being type-A, if I let myself think too long about what other people had done by the time they turned 26, I get all wound up and try to write an award-winning short story and cure cancer and run a marathon and create a media empire and generally kill myself with anxiety that I’m not taller, more baller.

It doesn’t help that one of the people I went to school with who was born on this day has been in Silicon Valley (or wherever those people who do these things go) inventing technology and designing things since he was 17 and was recently named on one of Forbes 30-under-30 people to watch lists and generally is making a lot of money doing something he appears to love and is very, very good at. I don’t think about that at all! Nope. Not for an instant. And I totally do not cling to the fact that when his mother made him invite me to his birthday party in kindergarten, he overhand threw a water balloon in my face from about five feet away. Ah, to be touched by greatness….or the snap of overextended rubber across the bridge of your nose [no jokes, please].

But like I said, I’m totally not thinking about that sort of thing today!

Or the fact that my parents got married at 26 and were buying their first house, which could put some sort of weird pressure on me to hurry up and find some guy to marry me. Stat. And by stat I mean that Vegas is five hours and 14 minutes away, so if you allow that extra 46 minutes to find a chapel and stand in line, and then subtract from 11 pm, I have until 6 pm to find the groom. EVERYBODY PANIC.

On second thought, their first house was in Oklahoma. Maybe I’ll wait a while longer.

When I was little, my birthday being at the tail-end of March, I always had a “spring”-themed birthday party. For some reason this added up to also being “easter”-themed many years and my mom always gave me some sort of rabbit tchotchke (I would like to say: I spelled that correctly the first time without assistance. I really have achieved everything I need to by 26). This all sort of makes sense, except that “March comes in like a lion, out like a lamb” phrase is total CRAP. My “spring” birthday was always miserably cold and wet and definitely, without fail, held indoors.

Until I moved to San Diego three years ago, which is warm and sunny something like 363 days of the year, and my spring birthdate became a completely, totally accurate predictor of fog and rain. Last year it rained so hard the streets flooded. The year before I wore a giant wool coat over my party dress and had to lend a parka to my BFF who had come down from San Francisco. The skies are cloudy today and it’s 55 degrees. That’s basically winter here. This is the sort of Southern California day when celebrities in LA walk around in giant parkas, boots, and scarves, and bloggers in New York post pictures of them saying, “REALLY?”

I’m going to the beach anyway.

Maybe I’ll jump in the ocean and let the hypothermia freeze out all my thwarted ambition and silly notions. Hey guys, remember when you were little, and 26 year-olds seemed SO GROWN-UP and totally TOGETHER? And married and with mortgages and babies and careers and stuff and all the answers and authority in the world?

Hahahahaha. Kids are dumb.



UPDATE: I did indeed go in the ocean. It involved a lot of jumping up and down in hysterical anticipation and then screaming.


2 Responses to “Dear Birthday”

  1. Anonymous 24 March 2012 at 6:25 am #

    “[I]f I let myself think too long about what other people had done by the time they turned 26, I get all wound up and try to write an award-winning short story and cure cancer and run a marathon and create a media empire and generally kill myself with anxiety that I’m not taller, more baller.”

    – What 99.9999% of what other people have done by 26 in 2012 is:
    1) not much in terms of general contributions to society, 2) very little of what they wanted to do, and 3) make more mistakes than they ever want to remember.

    Regardless of whether or not we know the “impressive” types personally, they’re the .00000001%, and so I guess we all have delusions of grandeur since we persistently compare ourselves to them.

    You’ve got a great blog: very prettily designed. And you’re witty. And I think the stuff you write about actually matters. And you make me laugh. And I’m nine years older than you and you’re blog is better than mine. But that’s okay. Really!

    The point is: I’m glad you were born, because I like reading your blog.

    Happy Birthday 🙂

    • MM 25 March 2012 at 10:59 am #

      Thank you. Thanks for the birthday wishes and the blog compliments and everything! Thanks for the reading.

      I really am happy with the choices I’ve made and the things I do and the age I am. 26 is going to be a good year. I know because I said so. 😉

      But yes, delusions of grandeur– they’re a bitch, aren’t they??? Good thing photographs and voice recordings and sweat exist to remind us that we aren’t as cool as we think we are.

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