Well yes, yes it is my birthday. How nice of you to remember!
I am painfully less-than-enthusiastic about celebrating my birthday. It’s not because I’m older, or wiser, or cheaper; I’m just that kind of person that gets a little anxious when I’m congratulated for simply surviving another year. Things might be different if I trained venomous snakes or tested for landmines as my 9 to 5, two jobs that would warrant a celebration for existing yet another year (with or without all of my limbs). If this was turn of the century New York, I’d be celebrating in grand birthday fashion that I found a way to survive that nasty Cholera.
What would I celebrate this year? I did finish grad school, that’s something. I successfully helped move the contents of an entire apartment somewhere new (and avoided the oft-experienced relationship stressors that accompany). Oh, I started this blog, which I never thought I would do-ever.
What do I wish for the next year? I want to be less stressy. OMG yes. Perhaps cook and sew more, and most definitely laugh more. I want to enjoy the beautiful days outside, armed with a book or a board game, some Claritin, and some excellent company (friends and bf, I’m looking at you!). Save for a tattoo? Sure. Take a vacation? You betcha. Other than that, I hope that I find a new job that wants me as much as I want it. Somewhere where there’s that point when I smile and say ‘I can do this. I enjoy it. And I can do this well.’
Well, now that I think about it. Yes, let’s celebrate. Who’s in for DimSum and some outdoor frosty beverages!
Happy Birthday, all you other April 17 folks!