Tomorrow's my birthday, ya'll! Some people refrain from telling you when it's their birthday because:
1. They don't themselves care
2. They're legitimately shy and/or modest
3. They're just trying to be cool about something they're secretly pumped about.
But not me. Because no. 1 is a feeling I can't understand, so I'll let someone else explain it. No. 2 I respect, but that's just not the way I roll. And no. 3 is something I have totally tried to pull off in years past and--well, I've just decided not to do that anymore. Because why all the false modesty, you guys?
Face it--birthdays are awesome. Because it's a holiday, right? But instead of trying to feel something profound about Jesus or the pilgrims or ghosts/witches or Jesus or America or the storming of the Bastille, you can feel something profound about yourself. Which is way easier in my experience.
So, here are some things that I am going to celebrate about myself this year on my birthday:
1. I give excellent advice. Seriously, I am an advice-giving genius--I should get paid to do it, but I honestly don't think it's ethical to be paid for something you might eventually receive a Nobel Prize for.
2. I'm legitimately likable. I dare you not to like me at least a little tiny bit.
3. I have an unexpectedly pleasant singing voice.
4. My hair is really lovely like one of those prostitutes in the Pre-Raphaelite paintings.
6. I'm good at writing things, like this blog.
Oh yes I did just write a list of my sterling qualities. Because, in my opinion, that's what birthdays are for. I, for one, spend so many other days of the year worrying over the long, boring list of my flaws: disorganization and selfishness and lack of focus, the size of my pants and the fact that I'm incapable of finishing projects. It seems to me each one of us spends at least a little time each day beating ourselves up over what we can't control or what's actually not a big deal.
Well, I've decided that for my birthday this year and for all birthdays henceforth, I'm going to forgive myself for being a disorganized slob who gives excellent, unsolicited advice to people who might not want it. I'll forgive myself for not being as beautiful, patient, clever or focused as some other people. I'll forgive myself for wanting things I can't have or don't need. On January 9th, 1978, I was born into the world a tiny little baby with no personality and nothing to regret. And Hear Ye, Hear Ye--every year on the same day, I'm gonna high-five myself for having a personality, no matter how flawed. Also, for continuing to exist in one piece because that's kind of an accomplishment in itself.
So, that--along with some kind of expensive boots--is my birthday present to myself. And maybe, if you feel like giving me a present this year, make a list of awesome things about you and then high-five yourself, too. Because you're great.
Oh yes, you are. Don't argue with me on my birthday.