You would think that there comes a certain point in your life where birthdays become ho-hum. Indeed, it seems almost a requirement that you act as if they have anyway. Getting excited about celebrating your birthday, once past some arbitrary and hazy point will bring scorn, as if you are acting like a child. I have come to believe that because of this ‘pressure’ we almost start believing it ourselves… we being the aging folks. We have to act as if birthdays don’t matter to us anymore, and we start to get so good at the acting that I think we are in danger of believing our lie. 

Well I don’t believe it. I freakin love my birthday! Yes, it’s a reminder that I’m closer to death, but it’s also a great reminder of how awesome it is to be, and to celebrate having ‘been’ for another blessed year. I always expected to die young, and given many of the risks I took and the habits I made, and the things I did, I find it hard to believe I’m still here. But I am, and I hope to stick around for more birthdays, especially now when I don’t have to work so hard anymore and can spend ever more time persuing my own interests. Now, if only I was rich enough to do everything I wanted 🙂


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Another year older

by Richard Crossley time to read: 1 min