OLD AGE

23 -- four years past being a teenager, four years into young adulthood, four years closer to a natural death. The last time I attached unnecessary significance to an arbitrary day in the Gregorian calendar was August 14, 1999, when my carefully laid “birthday” plans were rendered useless and the ensuing disappointment was more than my young heart could handle. Since then, I’ve stopped committing birthdates to memory and don’t expect anyone else to do the same of mine. I’ve become a little better about remembering, with the advent of Facebook and its automatic reminders, but birthdays have ultimately lost their relevance to me, let me make this clear.

It's not that I’m completely heartless; I do understand the birthday phenomenon. Hallmark marketing aside, it’s an event, far more personal than Christmas or Groundhog Day, in which the individual celebrant is allowed to take stock of his or her life thus far. I’m sure at some subconscious level even the most vapid bimbo realizes that individual worth is measured not in material accumulation but in human relationships. Hence, the proverbial birthday acts as an opportunity for the celebrant to validate his or her connections to humanity; acknowledgement in the form of “Happy Birthday”s followingly seek to authenticate and elevate the individual’s sense of self worth.

But humankind, in its animate glory, is a never-ending source of disappointment. My soul, being the feeble thing that it is, susceptible even to the tiniest of pinpricks, cannot weather such crushing blows to its esteem. Without a home-base, without a geographical location in which I know more than five people, with being transient and having spent my “birthday” in over 10 countries so far, how can I expect constancy in the face of such uncertainty? It is thus in an act of self-preservation that I reject my role in this celebration. Nevertheless, I almost always find myself pleasantly surprised on the day of my birth each year, because I’m sentimental and a sucker for such things.

I received some phone calls at a little after 12 this morning and woke up to a slew of e-mails in my inbox. Logging on to Facebook, I was similarly greeted by a giant sign wishing me a pleasant day. I was so moved by this cyber-display of affection it was all I could do to prevent myself from kissing the screen. Of course, I was already secure in my relationships with the sources of all of these acknowledgements -- people who can see past my affectations, people I’m uncomfortable around because their gazes cut a little too deeply (I hate you for being able to see me more clearly than I can see myself) -- but they were nice gestures nonetheless. Definitely appreciated.

Soundtrack:

Prefab Sprout - Appetite
Procol Harem - A Whiter Shade Of Pale
Psychedelic Furs - Ghost In You