What's with birthdays? Lots of people have been having birthdays recently, and this set my mind on this particular path which you, also, have stumbled upon, or perhaps been forcibly yanked onto by the terrible power of my rambling posts. [Mad laughter]
However, I wander too much from my topic. The path upon which my mind stumbled along was, roughly speaking, to ask the question of what the birthday of a particular person, say, me, should mean to that person, who is, once again, me. For all I know, I wasn't even born on that day. I have no memory of the event which I am supposed to celebrate. And what's so great about the event itself? From all I've heard, it doesn't sound like much fun for anyone involved - lots of pain for my mom, blood everywhere, me getting circumcised, etc. Admittedly, I would much rather have no memory of that last event and so I'm not unhappy that, if a need for its occurrence was felt, that it was gotten over with. Even so, I can't imagine it was fun for that screaming little kid.
But verily! arcane surgical procedures are not at all the topic of this post; that at least was not my original intention and I shall do my best to prevent further digression in that direction. Anyway, I guess the point of all this is that I just don't see why this day should mean anything special to me. Other people can bring in cake and so forth for their birthdays, and with that I have no quibbles, as long as I get a slice. But don't expect me to bring in a cake for my own birthday.
Although... a birthday might be a useful excuse to do something horribly hedonistic, like play paintball. That will bear further contemplation.
posted on Monday, April 21, 2003
|
|
