Happy Birthday to Neet

Ta daa! By the time you've read this post, I will have aged another year: completed another turn in the Circle of Life, one more turn of the hour glass, moved one more step around the giant Ludo board of my life.

Big deal!

I'm going to reiterate: yes, it is a tiny bit of a big deal, I suppose. I made it through another year, and that can only be a good thing: I'm in no way ungrateful for that. But my point is, are birthdays such a big deal? And at what age do they stop becoming one?

21st aside (my favourite birthday) I think my 18th birthday was my last "Really Super Big Deal Birthday", and it was fantastic. Since there are a lot of May birthdays in my group of friends, five of us decided to club together and have a joint birthday celebration. We rented a hall, had a DJ, and had 100 of our friends come along to celebrate with it. There was even face cake.

Remember when you were really small, and you thought that because it was your birthday it was all going to go according to your plan? It's quite cute really, until you wake up on your birthday and it's raining, or you didn't get the presents you wanted, or your infant brother slapped his sticky little handprint into your cake before you'd even blown the candles out (I still haven't quite forgiven the little shit for that one). Then you learn an important lesson: just because things don't go your way, doesn't mean you still can't have a fantastic time.

Back to the joint 18th: things didn't always go to plan even then: One of the party guests, angry that her boyfriend had asked me for a birthday girl dance, ran out into the main road causing several guests to go looking for her (upsetting two of the parents and making one of the birthday girls cry). One of my friends made a comment about my dress, it got taken the wrong way and I got upset. And just days before the event, the fifth party host broke up with me and was subsequently refunded his deposit on the hall and asked not to come. But when I look back on that day, I don't see all of those things immediately. Like looking at a photograph, you see the main subject and barely notice the imperfections: they're still there, just not as easy to see in among all the fun and laughter.

This year, I'm still going to be the same when I wake up on my birthday as I was on May 6th (just maybe a little greener around the gills). And you know what? That's OK! I don't have to do something on the day, it's no less magical if I have a small celebration a few weeks later when work and money trouble and pressing worries are out of the way.

As an aside, if you don't know what to get me for my birthday (that's me being presumptuous and assuming you were getting me a present, cheeky cow that I am), may I suggest donating the money you would use on buying me an Address Book* to the CCU Unit at Poole Hospital, my chosen fund du jour. There's even a handy Widget tool on your right there. Isn't that thoughtful!

*A boyfriend actually got me this as a present one year. I'd rather have had socks for Fuck's sake. We didn't last much longer after that!!