Monday, July 14, 2008

Birthdays are like a box of dreams

Celebrating birthdays can be quite a heavy-duty task. I was asked recently by my friend how I wanted to celebrate it and what I wanted to do. After ... so many years of being around, birthdays are like another other days for me. What else can I do to make that day when I was born a little more memorable. I guess I did once, six years ago, and since then nothing could top that.

A friend told me she did rock climbing for the first time on one of her birthdays and my niece suggested I adopt a child on one of my birthdays to make it a day to remember.

I'm not one to observe festivities and special days and occasions as though they are meant to be good for the soul or something like that. I let them pass and slip through my fingers because I find them rather tedious when they are overemphasized with tangible indulgences.

I've enough hoards to fill up the cabinets, I've eaten the best food I could ever taste, I've wonderful friends who are always there for me and I've been to the pinnacle of my realization to last me a lifetime, what more could I ask for myself? Although I haven't achieved my million dollar mark - doesn't everyone go for that? - or have become a celebrated writer of sorts, or attain nirvana, I guess I'm okay with being the writer behind my blogs and then some...

The day after my birthday I caught the flu and ached from head to toe. Maybe that's something I could recall in the coming years though it's not quite an appealing thought. Even as I write now, two days after my birthday, I am still sniffling, sneezing and spinning like a horror writer being possessed.

Ahh ... what a day to reminisce. Maybe I could write a poem about it too.

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