My birthday is tomorrow. I’m sure that most of you know this. Either because we’re friends on Facebook and you are being gently reminded or because you stop over here often enough to see me shamelessly plugging my birthday every chance I get. (Seriously…it’s tomorrow…I turn 24).
Being a New Year’s Eve baby has always had it’s ups and downs.
On the one hand, there’s always a party. On the other hand, sometimes kids can’t come (Y2K was a totally craptastic birthday).
On the one hand, I could stretch gift-getting into a 2 week extravaganza. On the other hand, people persistently tried to get away with that combination gift bullshit. (I mean thanks for the presents you guys! I loved them!)
On the one hand, I could write combination Thank You cards to people and get that whole process over with at once–way to save on stamps! On the other hand, I got all of my presents in December and then in July when I wanted say, a new Barbie or a pair of really fabulous red peep-toe heels, I was screwed and had to wait another 5 months (which, in all fairness, worked out well with the high heels–they were TOTALLY on sale by the time I did get them as a gift).
But the biggest postitive to my birthday is this: I always know how old I am.
Okay, wait, let me stop right here–you’re all going to think I’m like, slightly retarded but let me explain myself first.
My birthday follows the calendar year. So I know, for example, that for the entirety of 2008 (with the exception of 1 day) I was 23. When people tell stories and say things like, “Oh, the blizzard of ’93–how old were we that year?” I can say, easily and without thinking, that I was 8. I would have turned 9 at the end of that year, but when the blizzard happened, I was 8. There was no–well was the blizzard in February or March? Early or late in the month? This is important people! I might have been a different age!–to deal with.
This is a handy feature. My birthday just follows the calendar year. So, when the new year starts for everyone else, it starts for me too. This is always how it was and it just made things easier. I can’t imagine having, for example, a July birthday. You’re going along, minding your own business, and then boom–you’re older. Another year of your life has passed. But wait–another year of, like, the world, hasn’t passed. You’re still trucking along through 1997 or whatever year it is.
So call me weird. Call me stoopid. Tell me that I’m basically a renob and all normal people can keep track of both their birthday and the calendar year without confusion.
I maintain that I’ve got it easy. And I don’t know how the rest of you do it.