Yup. My birthday. No, I'm not particularly fussed either. Ironic, I suppose that my life has reached a point there is little reason to do anything special. I mean, Doctor Who was on TV last night. On proper TV. And I have 90% of all the merchandise I could want. I get to sleep in. I'm in a loving home environment. I spend pretty much every day in a pleasant meandering of domestic tasks and psychological fugues. Indeed, I think I hate my birthday - not so much for the whole 'one year older, uglier, deeper in debt' kind of reasons, but because I really don't like being the centre of attention. Really. As that fatal blogpost all those years ago demonstrated, I'm much rather celebrating everyone else. I was terrified of the career's advisor at school, pathologically unable to list any strengths or weaknesses or dreams or ideals on my part. Seriously, much rather discuss what was on TV last night or how you've been keeping or anything...
So. Yeah. The price you pay for having a really rather nice life is that celebratory days don't stick out that much from the norm. Hell, I have to put myself through two weeks of hell to have ANY appreciation of Christmas.
To the readers of this blog, there is no need to toast me or anything like that. I warrant a place in your minds and, ideally some affections. So don't toast me. Toast yourselves. See how much YOU like it.
I leave you in the immortal words of Steven Moffat:
"It's my birthday today."
"No it isn't!"
*starts beheading flowers with a sword*
So. Yeah. The price you pay for having a really rather nice life is that celebratory days don't stick out that much from the norm. Hell, I have to put myself through two weeks of hell to have ANY appreciation of Christmas.
To the readers of this blog, there is no need to toast me or anything like that. I warrant a place in your minds and, ideally some affections. So don't toast me. Toast yourselves. See how much YOU like it.
I leave you in the immortal words of Steven Moffat:
"It's my birthday today."
"No it isn't!"
*starts beheading flowers with a sword*
The Youth of Australia review The Christmas Invasion...
2 comments:
For I'm a jolly good fellow, for I'm a jolly good fellow, for I'm a jolly good fellow and so say all the internet!
I dunno, works for me.
In all seriousness, though, I have to say that I'm not that keen on my own birthday for much the same reason. There's something slightly awkward about having a day centered around yourself - it appealed to me when I was a young, narrow-minded egomaniac in constant lust for a new toy but now it feels rather gratuitous. So I get what you mean.
But anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY hahaha you can't stop me saying it!
For I'm a jolly good fellow, for I'm a jolly good fellow, for I'm a jolly good fellow and so say all the internet!
Would sir like us to reffle his hair now?
In all seriousness, though, I have to say that I'm not that keen on my own birthday for much the same reason. There's something slightly awkward about having a day centered around yourself - it appealed to me when I was a young, narrow-minded egomaniac in constant lust for a new toy but now it feels rather gratuitous.
I think I reached that stage when I was five and had a huge birthday party with everyone I knew. Man, it was awkward...
But anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY hahaha you can't stop me saying it!
Damn you, Hansen. One day you don't have that flintlock to protect you. AND ON THAT DAY...
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