I turned thirty last Thursday to no fanfare. I really dislike the fact that I’m thirty. It’s one of those all-important ages that symbolizes the true descent of adulthood, I think. I cringe at that idea and the age. When Lucas turned thirty two years ago, I took it harder than he did. Well, for a bit anyway.
Despite feeling a bit sullen about turning thirty, I’ll admit that I kinda wish someone had made a bit of a big deal and made the birthday special. Instead, all I got, courtesy of Lucas, was some supposedly good-natured ribbing about my old age, and that got irritating very quickly (but he still persisted and still does every so often), and a very typical, boring day. Okay, he did buy us dinner, so that was different. If there wasn’t that crazy snowstorm the day before, we might’ve made it to the museum in Toronto. That’s been postponed a few weeks. But still, I do wish Lucas had at least made the effort to make the day special. Over the years, we’ve gradually done away with gifts for commercial days, but the one thing I wanted was to at least celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Somehow, the birthdays of the past few years haven’t involved gifts. I’m not exactly certain why, but our finances play into that, I suppose. Actually, last year, I got him a notebook and also made him one, with Raspberry’s scribblings on the cover. I do enjoy the fun and secrecy of putting together gifts for others. I feel lame and commercial about being upset over not getting any gifts, when clearly that’s not the point of birthdays. I’ve become someone who secretly likes her birthdays but generally loathes them because they’ve sucked balls. I honestly can’t recall a great or even good birthday in the past ten to twelve years or more, and I can’t even tell you why that’s the case. I miss my childhood birthdays, where at least I was more or less guaranteed a good day. Cake! Presents! Happiness! YAY! I’m not sure why this is bothering me so much today when we’re four days past the fact. I should be better than this, rise above it and all that shit. &(@$^&(*@$##! Okay, back to life.Advertisements