Birthday’s come but once a year

Birthday’s are a very interesting concept in theory. Year after year we have been trained to celebrate the day of our birth, no matter how long ago that may be. Different cultures may view this differently, but in America it is virtually completely understood that you seize the day, accept gives, and celebrate another year of being alive. For me, I’m hitting another milestone tonight at midnight, the big 2-1. The night that is feared by most, and known to many. Sixteen seemed so distant for many years, anticipating the independent feeling that comes with being able to drive a car with no one next to you if you please. A year later I could be devious and see an R rated flick without Mom or Dad accompanying me, and without fear of being caught for buying a ticket to one film and walking into another. Eighteen seems almighty when you are finally a legal adult, and can smoke cigarette’s and cigars until you can’t breathe anymore if you would like. Then this one, the night that I have been waiting for ever so patiently to be able to legally consume alcohol, or even rent a hotel room for a nice Valentine’s day getaway with the girlfriend. I’m squirming in my seat as I write this, as I watch the clock tick away more slowly than it ever has before.

It’s kind of funny to think that once a year, you get money and gift’s thrown at you for something that you literally had no choice in taking part of. Your parent’s decision, or mistake, to bring you into this world is attached with the reasonable expectation to receive praise and recognition for just being alive. Sympathy is automatically given when you state the phrase, “It’s my birthday!” to people, and celebrations are nearly always in order. Whether it’s just with close family members, or the entire crew for a night on the town, you gotta’ indulge.

Birthday’s are one of many cultural traditions that we take part in on a yearly basis. The society that we live in puts a heavy weight on partaking in some of these traditions. School and work are put on hold in some cases, and commemoration is given to the day. Our behavior in this light is very interesting, and it will never have an end in our life time for most of the event’s that we recognize with certain levels of importance. For me, not too many mile stones are welcomed from here on out. In two years I can rent a car, and at 50 I’ll just be called over the hill. Big whoop, right? Cheer’s to birthdays. And cheers to everyone I see at the bars at midnight; hopefully I survive to post another day.

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