Birthdays

I spoke about someone else's birthday earlier this week, but tonight, I'm going to talk about birthdays in general...okay, maybe I'll be talking about my birthday, which is, technically, at 6:50 pm (eastern time) today. (just shy of 17 hours from when I started writing this entry.)

A lot of people get happy around their birthday. Some people use it as a time to reflect on the year past -- or the year future -- and tend to get depressed if they're, say, over 30 and have done nothing with their lives.

Me? I tend to get a little down, but not for the reason those in mid-life (or sooner) crises encounter. I get a touch sad precisely because I don't care about it much.

To me, my birthday is just another day that ends in 'y'.

I always feel bad when people tell me I should celebrate my birthday as a special day, but I don't particularly like to make plans. And I don't care about gifts, so then what makes it different?

I mean, if someone were to call me and say, "A bunch of us are getting together at (insert place) at (insert time) and it's for your birthday," I'm sure I'd show up. I might even stay for more than a couple hours. But beyond a free car wash, I've never really cared much for my birthday.

I mean, I use it as an excuse to by myself a movie or two and a CD or two, but who doesn't...

So yeah -- my birthday gets me down because I feel like I should care more...or that someone else should care to the point to force me to care. But this year, it's going to be a good year. Why? Because I'm going to sit down in my warm apartment with my lovable roommate and, well, do nothing.

Because isn't the most important part of a birthday just taking some time out to acknowledge the people you love and the places you love and, well, embrace them? Perhaps with some food I like, too. (Read: brownies or chocolate cake...)