First, I have never met as many people who do NOT celebrate their birthday as I have since I moved here. Why is that? Were all my friends so badly scarred by their suburban birthday parties that they can never have another one? And why do they say “It’s no big deal. Just another day.”

I call B.S.

I have *always* felt that if you celebrate ONE day a year, it should be your birthday. Not Christmas or Hanukkah or Halloween or Boss’s Day. It should be the day of your birth! If you can’t/don’t/won’t celebrate the day that marks the fact that you exist, the one day out of the whole year where you can say “Hey! Guess what world? I am here! And I am loving it! And, dammit, give me a present to commemorate the awesomeness of me and my life!” Okay, I don’t actually believe that presents are necessary, but do you get what I’m saying here? Maybe it should be, “And, dammit, I’m going to give you all presents to commemorate how glad I am to be here and that you are sharing in this amazing journey with me!” (That’s much better.)

You are alive. This is the one day to celebrate it and shout it from the rooftops.

If you wanna celebrate mine with me, it’s on Monday. No big plans. Dinner with friends. Maybe picnic style somewhere where we can see the lake? And the whole time I’ll be thinking, “Yay for me! Yay for being alive! YAY YAY YAY!!” with the biggest cheesiest grin on my face knowing that this is my day to celebrate me, my life and the friends that are in it.