First, I should make it clear that I'm not self-conscious about my age. I have looked approximately 25 years old since I was 17. I therefore don't worry that I look older than I really am. It's just embarrassing to be 32-years-old, possess a graduate degree, and not even have a direct-dial extension at my place of work. Even though I'm not a student anymore, I'm still a "trainee," and it's just easier to be a trainee if you haven't left your twenties yet.
It occurs to me that, in 29+ years on earth, I've accomplished a lot of things. I'm the first person in my immediate family to complete a college degree. In fact, I wound up getting two of them for good measure. I've owned real estate, bought my first new car, gotten into debt, and out of debt, and back into debt again. I haven't had children yet, but I still have a few years to find a willing lesbian!
Birthdays are an interesting time for me. I've always been keen on celebrating other people's birthdays, but never so keen on celebrating my own. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some sort of noodge who refuses to acknowledge his birthday and takes great offense when others dare to mention its very existence. I appreciate well wishes from friends and family on my birthdays, but the whole cake-and-ice cream routine leaves me a little cold.
Turning 29 (again) on a Wednesday is therefore somewhat of a relief. There's no pressure to go out and party on a Wednesday. Celebrating the weekend before seems a bit decadent. If you wait until the following weekend, it seems as though the moment has passed and it's a bit anticlimactic.
I'm content to sit here, watch Golden Girls DVDs and put my feet up. It's all I really want to do for my birthday, and I'm tickled to have the time to do just this much.
So, to all the other Pearl Harbor babies out there, I hope you've had a terrific birthday!
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