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October 12, 2006
That special day.
I have a birthday coming up, and I have no idea what I want.
I've had this problem ever since I relinquished my membership in Howard Johnson's Birthday Club. I'm sure my father's quite glad he's no longer on the hook to take me and my friends out for grilled cheese sandwiches and ice cream.
I've never been much of a self-celebrator, so nativity commemorations have always been managed by friends and family. I have a hard time cultivating a sense of entitlement, so asking others to buy me things once a year is far outside the comfort zone.
Chatting with Ella last week, I was practically interrogated with Gitmo-style subtlety. "There has to be something," she urged.
I don't want stuff (with the possible exception of some music, movies and books). I want more time with Liz, well-defined plans for the future and the inspiration and energy to do good work I can be proud of. I want to be on the way to something.
For my birthday, I want the contractors creating the cacaphony next to our house to take the day off so we can sleep in. I want phone calls and emails from everyone I care about in which they tell me all about how they're doing, good and bad.
I would like some clarity and peace of mind.
And maybe a fat slice of poppyseed cake from Sweet Inspirations.
Posted by Your Protagonist at October 12, 2006 11:45 AM