Happy Birthday to me, indeed.

Whaaaat, who is this guy? Two posts in such a short window! Now this is a blog worth following...

Now that I'm done patting myself on the back, let's get to it.

I shall now put on my philosopher hat as I ask..."what is a birthday?" Surely more than the day I was born, plus 23 years. Surely it has become something much more meaningful, much more sentimental, perhaps much more dreaded, a birthday is a commemorative excuse for celebration and the exchange of well wishes.

Now, those who know me well know I'm not much of a holiday guy at all. How do I console this with the fact that I had an awesome birthday? I'm working on it, I tells ya. (Tangent) I am not a fan of holidays as I believe that they tend to idolize a day above others for good tidings, good behaviour and general admonishments of love, neglecting moderation for overzealous hyperbole that, in contrast, makes other days some more dreary.

(A wild rhyming cynic appears!) Those who post upon walls, text instead of placing calls, respond late or perhaps not at all drain the sincerity from the claim happy birthday. It becomes another article of meaningless grunting along with such gems as "how's it going?" and "canucks-canucks-canucks, etc." If you really cared, says the lonely abscess of my subconscious, you'd make an effort to get personal in your message. If it really mattered at all to all you folks, you'd do more to make it something that reflects the value you place in our relationship.

Now see, that right there is some useless bit of selfish, prideful reflection. That right there is the product of an idolized day wherein I'm supposed to be treated specially and allowed to be high-maintenance under the cover of my special status as birthday boy. This is how I respond to this day when I treat it as anything more than what it is.

What is it? It is just a day. Though it provides an excuse for the over-sharing that breaks social character, the kind of over-sharing that says I love you, I love the person you are, the things you've done and the things you've helped me realize in the time we've known one another. These sentiments, for me, are the essence of friendship. Yet it is this companionship that is hidden behind all the other empty statements we use to do our little social song-and-dance, hiding and disguising our true thoughts. So at once, this day is entirely unspecial, and entirely amazing, as it allows us to be real, or not, but even in our hesitation confirm that there is a bond that is valued beyond the limits of the incomplete phrase "happy birthday".

See now, when I'm prideful I see these words and shake my head, demanding more, and neglecting the source, doubting any sentimental connection to this ghost phrase. Yet when I reflect, step down from upon a perch of socially constructed superiority, I realize that these words tell me that there are people out there loving me. There are people out there who care enough to pause life, borrow my attention, and affirm our relationship. Love isn't the eloquent MC-improv-poet stepping up to bestow blessings crafted for quote-books and re-tweets. Love is the attitude behind each individual whose will for their own happiness is momentarily halted as they seek to devote their time and energy to the happiness of another.

I love best when I am loved, and on a day when so many people reach out from their worlds to bestow joy on me, I feel equipped to love like crazy. Thanks to those who show love, in whatever form best finds their focus, I only hope you feel some sort of reciprocity in the love you demonstrate and know that your words, to me, represent a carefully constructed and well cared for bond.