By Oscar Wilde
March 12th is the most appropriate day to celebrate your birthday, a roommate used to tell me. My birthday is actually on the 13th, today. She said the focus of birthdays is all wrong, because the emphasis is to celebrate what is to come rather than what has happened. How can we jump ahead to celebrate a new, empty, yet-to-prove-itself year, rather than celebrate a year just lived? We’re too impatient to reflect, to offer thank-yous and never-agains, so instead we cross our fingers and look ahead.
It’s a shame, because birthdays give us an excuse to fully stretch and bask in our own lives. It’s a brief window during which you don’t have to feel as guilty for thinking largely about yourself. If you don’t feel guilty about that in the first place, I love/hate you.
So cheers to my 25th year. You have served me incredibly well, thank you. Although I do see plenty of room for improvement… oh, forget that roommate’s advice, on to 26. Just kidding. Kind of.