Wednesday, March 23, 2011

i am sixteen, going on seventeen.




Happy birthday to me.


It's tomorrow. The 24th of March. At this time on March 23rd 1994, I didn't exist (well, I did, but not in the air-breathing real world). That's funny, a time when I just.. wasn't. I can't imagine it (no kidding).

I feel like I'm hitting my midlife crisis thirty years early. Seventeen is
old. I figured it out yesterday: Thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen are really just preparing you to be a real teenager. Sixteen and seventeen you're in your prime. And then eighteen: you can vote; you're adult forever.


I never have wanted to grow up. I still don't.


Birthdays stress me out. I almost hate them (I pretty much do hate them, but people don't like me to say it). Not just my birthday: birthdays in general. I probably hate your birthday. It's the combined stress of parties and presents and remembering the right day and saying "happy birthday" lamely (or "thanks" lamely, on March 24th).

I just don't really tell anyone when it is. And let them feel bad about it sometime in the summer when they say "When are you turning 16?" and then I say "last March". It's fine.

Also, I hate that you have to be fake-nice to them the whole day long and let them get away with saying really stupid things and smile much more than usual. And laugh at their blatantly-
not-funny jokes.

The worst type of birthday people are the kind that really milk it for all it's worth. When they request that you do something ridiculous and you refuse, they go "Aw, but it's my birthday" and you have to do whatever it is, no matter how outrageous. It's unjust. It sucks. But unless you want to quickly end that relationship (in some cases you might, and then it's actually the perfect opportunity to get rid of them), you'd better just grind your teeth and buy them whatever they want.




That was the birthday rant. I feel sort of bad because what if someone reads this and their birthday is soon and I come up and say "Happy Birthday! I love you much more than I regularly do and also you're suddenly very attractive and important in my life" but they know that I'm really just sort of faking my enthusiasm? They'll know that I'm a fraud!



Not really, I still like you. Even on your birthday.


Unless I never liked you in the first place, in which case, I probably still don't. Even on your birthday.






You look like a monkey. And you smell like one, too.

-Avery Jalaine

2 comments:

  1. Happy birthday...?

    Honestly, you're probably going to feel old for a couple years, but then you'll realize that childhood was just a hyperactive blink and teenagerousness was just an eye-rolly blink and that you're still so new at being "old" that you're really still quite young. 17 seems old now only because you've never been this old before, but even 60 is young when compared with 70, and an enthusiastic and adventurous 70 year old will be considered younger than a resigned 40 year old.
    So today, on your birthday, go climb a tree, jump off swings, wear flowers in your hair, race your friends to the bus and laugh until your face hurts. You've never been this old before but you're never going to be this young again. Enjoy it.

    Birthdays stress you out, they make me overly sentimental.

    I hope you get a pony.

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  2. Avery,
    Happy Birthday dear. I feel old too. Don't worry, seventeen isn't that great. No different from sixteen. And I must agree with you, birthdays are ridiculous. I think when people have birthdays, everyone should keep quiet and let them grow older in peace. Because I think it is awkward when people ask constantly, "What do you want for your birthday?" and "Oh wow, your birthday is soon." Yep,awkward.
    Anyway, I still like you even when it's not your birthday.
    Eat some cake and sing a song. It's fun.
    That's all
    -Rachel

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Oh thanks. You're pretty.