'Twas the week before my birthday: visions of flaming candles, cake flavorings, and guest lists dance through my head. I don't know if I'm the only person on the planet who feels this way about the coming eve of one's birthday; but, regardless of how strange it is to be able to say I'm one year older and closer to my "adulthood," I've always had great difficulty defining the things that I want.
Not surprising, seeing as how I myself am a mid-November birthday, throughout my adolescence and childhood, my birthday week was always riddled with colorful renditions of "hand turkeys" and poorly crafted, thankful pilgrims, and homework assignments asking us for what we were thankful. Apparently I took this assignment a little too seriously, because I've always caught a brand of amnesia come birthday time; I can never remember what it was that I've been craving and desiring for the past year since my previous birthday. How strange is it that I always feel completely content come traditional-gifting-rite-of-passage-to-be-selfish time, yet nearly immediately afterwards I remember everything I
should have asked for? Are my Happy Pilgrim lists slowly conquering my temporary materialistic desires to the point that they cease to exist for one day?
I get excited about my birthday, yet, ironically, I always cringe when it's drawn to public attention. Getting birthday songs sung to me in my classes was something that I found extremely bitter-sweet. I loved the fact that my "day" was being recognized beyond that bleak calendar existence; yet, at the same time, that abhorred, crack-cocaine version of Happy Birthday that every six-year-old loves to scream was understatedly intimidating, frightening, and a little revealing as to the true personas and characters of my sandbox playmates.
As for others' special days, I'm basically the surrogate-mother of B-Days. I'm the friend constantly reminding how many weeks, days, and hours are left until The Big Moment, the one incessantly prodding "Guess what?! It's your birthday!" even though, clearly, my friends have been more aware of these facts for a more sustained period of time than I myself have. Giving birthday presents is something I relish. Picking them out is somewhat of an art form to me: gift certificates, checks, and money are absolutely off-limits to my gifting style, and it is a delicacy to find the true balance between something the person desires or needs, and something you want to give them because you feel they deserve or should appreciate it.
Oftentimes, it's the little, awkward and random gifts that make the biggest impact on me in terms of birthday gifts. Finding the right present for the individual who truly does have everything is a challenge; especially if they're like me and can't remember whatever it was they were wanting to begin with. I'm thankful there's no birthday version of Santa Clause; for, come time for me to sit on his proverbially red-velveteen lap, he prods me for what I want to appear beside my birthday cake, I feel my silent, unknowing response will make for one awkward situation.