After being swamped with work, a Marketing final exam, and frankly not caring for about two weeks, I am backlogging my blog.
This day, December 8, marks my twenty-fifth birthday. Since the inception of my birth, my birthdays have become less eventful, and usually less fun than the previous one; this is at least true for childhood where limitations due to age abound. However, I think all I did last year was sleep in because I took the day off from work. That is exactly the point; the actual birth date was completely uneventful. The next evening, Dave took me to a hibachi restaurant and to see the Cleveland Orchestra perform Holst’s “The Planets,” which, to date, remains my favorite symphony.
This year, Dave and I went to the same hibachi restaurant. However, rather than see the orchestra or go line dancing, as I had begged Dave to do for weeks previous to my birthday, we followed my sister’s suggestion of seeing The Golden Compass with her and her boyfriend. It was a quiet evening. A nice dinner and a movie among family (we are all practically that at this point). I think what I enjoyed most was spending the evening with people I love and/or do not see very often. It is a rare occasion for me to see my sister, so spending two hours in a dark theater where our own silence is mandatory, made my birthday a little more special.
Perhaps it is not that our birthdays become less eventful as we age. Perhaps it is that as we mature and our tastes change, we enjoy more meaningful moments than ones hypersensitive to excitement and sugar. Less obsessed with receiving the proverbial pony, we relish in the stolen moments with family and friends, even the most subtle, seemingly-sedate moments to an outsider. Even as the inner child revolts against this change, I cannot help but wholly welcome the difference in the childlike me and the present adult. Life truly gets better, and more appreciated for what it really is, through the years.