Thursday, October 07, 2010


The day after my 24th birthday (and bday dinner with these 2 sweethearts!) I started to write a blog post entitled "obsoletely twenty-four" analyzing why as you get older, birthdays seem to become more and more meaningless (less parties, less cards, less cake). Never one to enjoy celebrating my own birthday, I wasn't really sure why it even bothered me so much this year that throughout the day I never reached that warm, fuzzy feeling of specialness where your whole body internally shouts "Today is my day! I am another year older!" I kept thinking to myself, "Is this another one of those sobering coming-of-age (mile)stones, another rock dimming the light of the child inside you... kinda like finding out the Toothfairy doesn't actually exist when you discover an entire mouthful of incisors in your mum's jewelry box? ... where you realize you are really just a boring adult now whose imagination doesn't expand beyond primary colors because if that's what this is, I don't want to be 24. I want my fuzzy wuzzy browns and atomic tangerines and therefore, I am quite happy staying 23 a wee bit longer, at least until there's a bounce house and a funfetti cupcake tower and a unicorn pinata to properly commemorate me turning another year older.  

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