B-day Post.

“You must be so happy that today’s your birthday!” Man I hate it when people tell me that. What reason do I have to be particularly happy about the anniversary of my birth? I suppose that with our present crime shituation, the fact that I have lived to see another year of life is an accomplishment in its own right, but other than that I really fail to understand the general hullabaloo that is made about birthdays. We essentially get older as each nano-second goes by, so why the big deal about this one particular day?

I have never had a birthday party. My parents chose to place importance upon academic achievements (fat lot of good that did me) so events like birthdays, Mothers’ Day and Fathers’ Day passed by with only the barest minimum of acknowledgement; besides I wasn’t the kind of child who sought social interaction.

Some years ago I got depressed when none of my admittedly few friends called to wish me good tidings, or any tidings for that matter, on the day of my birth. This year I turned my cell phone off. I think I would have gotten depressed if anyone had called to wish me many happy returns.

I don’t know if I’m getting any wiser with age. I do know that I am becoming even more jaded as I get older. I honestly didn’t think that was possible. A psychologist once advised me to find something positive about Triniland and her people everyday in order to develop a healthier outlook. She quit her job two weeks later and migrated to her boyfriend’s homeland of the U.S. of A.

At this point in time, the first day of my 27th year is officially over. In spite of my morose mumblings, I actually did have a fun time, the details of which are insignificant and quite boring to those with active social lives. Here’s to hoping the rest of my lifespan follows in the same vein. That’s the closest I can bring myself to wishing me a happy birthday.