Happy Birthday to Me!

I will only be a reckless twenty-something for six and a half more hours. Well, since I was born in Memphis, and I'm an hour ahead of the Central time zone, perhaps I will be a reckless twenty-something for seven and a half more hours.

Regardless, tomorrow is my birthday!


Hooray!

If you are reading this, then you probably know me well enough to know that I practically consider my birthday a national holiday.

And this . . . this is my thirtieth birthday, three decades on this earth.

Sometimes when I make a big deal out of being excited about my birthday people give me an uncomfortable, half-embarrassed, tolerant look, the kind of look you might give someone who is bragging a bit too much about something great they did. I understand where this is coming from for these people, but I think it is wrong. I guess they see celebrating your own birthday as akin to celebrating how great it is for the rest of the world that you were born. That would certainly be a little braggartly and uncomfortable. But that is not what I'm celebrating, and I feel sorry for these birthday-impoverished folks.

To me, my celebrating my birthday is celebrating how thrilled and grateful I am to have been born, to get a chance to live and grow and change. I try to remember to be grateful for life everyday, but it is really easy to get caught up in the daily dramas. So tomorrow, if you talk to me, and I sound like I am just bursting with happiness that it is my birthday, I am. I am proud to exist, and excited to interact with the world, and grateful for how lucky and joy-filled my life has been thus far. I am leaping into thirty and into my thirties with excitement and anticipation. That is quite a lot to celebrate.

Happy Birthday to me!