It's funny how in a recent conversation with a friend when we talked about birthdays did I realise that it is not that birthdays have never been a big deal to me. I reckon it could be just sour grapes. Whilst I don't recall having any miserable years of crying in bed because no one celebrated my birthday for me, there had never been an explosive surprisingly I'd-remember-this-my-whole-life sort.
Yet at the same time, I seem to be spending my entire life trying to make others' birthdays as good as possible.
This post isn't about 'what's the deal about Birthdays?'. Surely the day you were born is just another freaking day, but everything can be used as an excuse anyway. It's more like, if I, and many other people have been trying to plot good birthdays for people, how come I don't see that many good memorable parties?
On a separate note, it has been reminicising times. I was reading Ping's archives from 2003 (when we were young and silly, really) and this just caught my attention:
If I could wish for a perfect life, it would be tempting.
But I would decline for there is nothing to learn from life.
At the tender age of 24 going 25, after about 20s of pondering, I've decided:
I will accept the perfect life.
Life is a journey, but I will be happy not learning and enjoying it for the rest of the few decades I have in the perfect way with the perfect guy and all my wonderful friends. That is tempting enough.
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