Birthday Magic

My birthday takes place during the lamest time of the year. Right between Christmas and New Years… today… December 29th. I never got cupcakes at school on my birthday, most people forget and if they do remember I always get joint Christmas / birthday presents, everyone is too tired from the holiday and trying to conserve their energy for the New Year to go out with me and snort coke off a hooker’s tits. It is a tough one. Man… now I know how Jesus must have felt.

So it is up to me to make my own birthday magic since I do think birthdays are important. Mostly because it is day where you get to celebrate you, which is something I feel really good about. It is a lot like those moments when you are talking about me, or I am talking about me, because it’s times like these where I am actually interested in what’s going on. I used to host massive ecstasy fueled parties for this epic event of my birth, but now I don’t think that is appropriate because The Munch is trying to cut down.

Where I once thought experiencing my birthday in a blacked out state covered in tears and vomit was ideal, I have come to appreciate seeing this landmark of time as a good opportunity for self-reflection. To look at the person I have been this past year, and create an intention of how that person can improve for the year to come. Usually that involves lying to myself more and wearing dramatic smokey eye shadow on the weekends.

Yet despite my self-pity and belligerence, there has always been an element of magic to my birthday beyond what I have manufactured. Something will happen to remind me of the mystery of existence and humble me. Last year it was my cat delivering a decapitated mouse on my mediation cushion… but it was beautiful. It was her gift to me because she knew that was the first place I went every morning, and I had already gotten that leather purse.

My heart has attributed this ethereal magic to my best friend Bitty who died almost 12 years ago. I feel like she makes an effort to remind me that there is so much more to life and death then what we think we know. It is her time to communicate to me, and it is up to me to be aware enough to listen. For instance, last night I had a dream that Grace’s son Calvin pooped on my rug, and this morning I stepped in cat puke on the rug that had the identical consistency to my dream! Happy birthday to me!

Getting my smokey eyeshadow ready for the weekend! Notice Munch playing in the toilet in the background.