There is nothing special about
getting old. In fact, people never cease to do so (Well, until they die, that
is.). Still we continue to celebrate each time the Earth has done a total
rotation around the Sun with each of us on it.
The first few times, we really
don’t care. We’re more interested in sleeping, pooping and figuring out how the
hell Aunt Maureen says “Pick-a-Boo!” and manages to disappear and then
MAGICALLY REAPPEAR AGAIN! Then we like it (and by that I mean, really, really,
really like it ohboyohboyohboyI’msoexitedIcan’twaitIcan’tsleepohboyohboyohboy).
This is mostly because you get presents, cake, candy and the right to add an
extra finger when your mommy asks you to tell people how old you are. The teenage years follow with all some great
birthdays: Old enough to go out, old enough to not have to tell your parents
when you’re getting home, old enough to drive a scooter, old enough to drive a
car, old enough to drink alcohol (less than 22% at 18 and more than that at 20
if you’re Norwegian). So yeah, it’s pretty cool for a while. But then you
become an adult.
When I say an adult, there is of
course still a matter of what that means. I'm here simply defining adult as
post-teen and with all rights and responsibilities society would normally throw
at any sane person (and quite a few less-than-sane people). It’s debatable for
certain social groups, like students, footballers and men, but that’s the
definition I will go by. Anyway, it’s not like I was asking anyone, so now you
may turn off caps lock. But I digress. After you've achieved status as a part
of society, even the really low parts like politicians or bankers, there isn't much good ageing can do for you.
Sure, there are perks. No matter
if you’re two or 82, you will for the rest of your life be able to look at
those younger than you and be condescending. You’re older, more experiences. Of
course you’ve got the right. After all, you lived through harder times than
they ever did. But then there are all the negative things about getting old.
First, the metabolism goes down: You actually can’t finish a large triple
whopper menu with extra cheese and bacon. You may even find that the slim-fit
jeans you wore at 17 are too small for you (I’m sure they shrank. What else
could it be?).Then there is the physical deterioration: You first don’t feel
like going jogging just because it’s a heavy snowfall outside and before you
know it, you can’t run fast enough to tackle little Greek men who are running
off with your rugby ball. There is also the mental deterioration, but I’m
pretty sure that started long before I become an adult, so that’s not applicable.
With age, having your birthday
suddenly doesn't seem as great as it used to. It serves as a reminder to you
and everyone around you that you’re slowly but surely getting closer to falling
into oblivion, Heaven or Hell, or maybe being born again (I want to be born
again as a Komodo dragon. It may not breathe fire, or fly, but IT. IS. A.
DRAGON!!!). Also, with age comes crankiness. All these young, carefree people
are running around believing life is all about having fun and not enough about
sitting and disapproving of what kids are up to these days. It really gets to
you. It surely doesn't help that people want your stuff. They’ll be looking at
you saying things like “That’s a really nice watch you've got there.” or “How
much would your laptop go for on eBay?” Oh yes, I know what you’re thinking, I
always do.
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| Thanks to Samantha Smith for taking this great photo of my 23rd birthday party. That cake was amazing. |
One perk about getting older is
the birthday party. But as a student, who really needs a reason to party? I've been to parties for celebrations I didn't even know existed until I receive the
Facebook invite. So it’s silly to think you need a reason to have a party, and such
an egocentric reason at that! However, there have been certain objections to me
spending my celebrating my birthday solely with my house mates This may have
something with me only having one house mate this year, but it is tradition and
I don’t argue with tradition (unless tradition is wrong and I feel like having
an argument). Whatever the reason, some loud voices have gotten through and I
have learnt that I henceforth need to keep quiet about it and remove my date of
birth from Facebook. In addition, in an effort to try to conceal how much of a
cranky old man I am becoming, I’ve decided I’ll really go all out and have a
big birthday party this year. It will be bigger than anything I’ve had for
years, with more preparations and celebrations than any party since primary
school. It will so big, I will be remembering it for years to come.
That’s right. I’m going out for a
drink. You can come too.
