It's My Party

It is 1am, Scott is sleeping next to me, the wind is blowing like crazy outside, and here I sit with my old, but trusty, functioning iBook G4 laptop. Oh, how I missed you for my late night blogs! You don't do any fancy trackpad tricks or allow me to video chat it up with people on gmail, and I prefer to call you "vintage", but you are working again and I will love you until I can afford to let you go. For now, there is no prettier computer in the whole, wide world than you, my friend.

My birthday. I don't know if I have ever felt so much love on one birthday. It was as if I was swimming in a sea of happy, colorful balloons all day long. My world today felt like the picture above. Maybe it is the Facebook/Blogging revolution and that handy little reminder that tells us when our dears ones are celebrating, but I had more emails, phone calls, text messages, wall posts, singing voicemails and what-have-you's than in past birthdays.

I am spoiled with all your love and I am so thankful.

And here is what I USE to think about birthdays: I did not love them very much. My expectation were too high for the day, I would end up feeling melancholy for some reason, and I couldn't handle that kind of attention. I know you are thinking, "Aimee, not loving attention?! Nooooo!" But really all-eyes-on-me kind of attention makes me feel uncomfortable. I never know what to say. Should I start tap dancing or something? I felt the same way on my wedding day. Great day. Loved it. Cherish the memory of all those people in one room together. But the awkward attention made me more nervous than committing the rest of my life to one person. Go figure?

But here is what I think about birthdays NOW: Ever since my mid-twenties, I haven't minded birthdays. There is no other specific day of the year that I get to be reminded of how many wonderful, freaking cool people are in my life*. And how many people there are in the world that I genuinely care about and love like crazy. I have histories with these people. And memories. Some of these people I don't talk to nearly as much as I would like, but the love is still there regardless of the time that passes. And guess what? They love me too! Could you ask for a better present on your birthday week than to be reminded that there are people in this big, fat, scary universe that care that you were born?!

Well, heavens. I just can't think of one.

So birthdays and I have made peace with each other and we are friends now. My expectations are real and with each passing year, I have more people to love (hopefully) and continue to try and be a kinder, nicer, less judgmental, more empathetic version of myself than I was the year before. I am a work in progress but if I have to grow old and like myself in my dying days, I better start somewhere.

Again, thank you everyone for loving me.
My cup runneth over.

* If you are reading this you are probably counted among this freaking rad population of friends and family that I am referring to and should take this whole post as a compliment regarding your coolness. Unless of course, we don't even know each other and you are my friend's sister's boyfriend's cousin and you read my blog because well... I don't know... that's what we do in 2009 - read strangers blogs? I am guilty... but I imagine you're cool and if you want to be friends we can be. That is all.