25th Birthday Story

For the first time in a while, my birthday did not fall on a weekend day. I was actually kind of hoping to slide by this year without having to go through any of the birthday stuff. For one, I prefer to avoid having people make a scene for you at any restaurant. Also, being at an open bar party when everyone is trying to get you drinks leads to ugliness, more often than not. And just in general, I don't feel like my birthday should entitle me to any special treatment (i.e. gifts, lunches/dinners, cakes, cards, etc.), I just don't feel like I really deserve all that stuff.

As it turns out, my Monday birthday somehow ended up becoming more or less a weeklong event, a week which included pretty much all of the things I mentioned above. I guess my friends are more zealous and aware of my birthday than I expected. With only one exception, everything was great and I definitely want to say thanks to all you guys who made me feel special about turning 25.

The one exception, as many of you may be wondering right now, came Tuesday when I went out with the boys to watch the Illini-Wisconsin game. It was just supposed to be another normal night of wings and beer at Hooters, except on the car ride there, the following exchange happened:

Dave C: "What you guys doing this weekend? Going to Chras's birthday thing at Blyss?"
Diddy: "Yeah, probably"
Me: "Yeah, probably"
Dave C: "Yo Dudo, isn't your birthday around Chras's birthday?"
Me: (pauses to decide whether or not to lie) "ummmm..... yes it is"
Dave C: "What day is it?"
Me: "Errr.... it was yesterday"
Diddy: "Sheeee...."
Dave C: "Hmmmm....."

As a result of my decision not to lie, I was harrassed all night. Every time I finished my beer and turned around, it seemed like my cup was full again. It's almost as if someone (Dave) was pouring someone else's (John's) beer into mine the whole night. I had to put a pickle in my mouth and do a chicken dance around the place. And the best part is that John and Will have been telling everyone that I was staring at our waitress's boobs. (I wasn't, by the way. She was showing me something on her nametag - seriously.) Oh well, at least the Illini won that game, so it wasn't too bad of a night overall.

Anyways, like I said, everything else was great, so thanks again to everyone for all your efforts. And even if you forgot about my birthday, don't worry, my birthday honestly isn't a big deal to me either. It really isn't. The following is a story I decided to share that might partially explain why I'm not that into birthdays. (It's a stupid story, so be warned.)

10th Birthday Story

As of now, I have officially experienced 25 birthdays. Some of them were especially memorable, others not as much, but as much as I can remember, all were generally "happy birthdays".

All of them that is, except for one.

The only birthday that I can remember ever being unhappy in was my 10th birthday. It was a long time ago, but even now as I'm well into my 20's, every year when my birthday comes around, I still think about that one time when I had an "Un-Happy Birthday".

You all know how it is: back when we were little, every birthday was a big deal. I mean, when you're 6, it's huge (or as Trump would say, "YUGE") when you suddenly turn 7. A year was such a long time that we would sometimes count half-birthdays ("I'm 8-and-a-half"). So when it came time for me to turn 10, I was definitely looking forward to it with extra anticipation. I mean, it's double digits baby; if that's not a big deal, I don't know what is.

Anyways, it turns out that my parents did not share my enthusiasm for my turning 10. I mean, they planned all the usual goodies, the birthday party, cake, presents, etc., which was nice. But that stuff would have to wait for the weekend. My birthday happened to fall on a Wednesday that year (no I didn't remember this exact detail, I had to look it up), and as far as Mom and Dad were concerned, January 24th of 1990 was going to be pretty much exactly like January 23rd and January 25th of 1990.

Among other things, this meant that I would have to practice on the piano for my normal 1 hour per night. And that one thing was essentially what made me so unhappy on my 10th birthday.

Of course it sounds dumb right now, but remember, I was barely 10 years old. Like a lot of kids, I thought that on my birthday, I deserved special treatment. So if I didn't want to play piano that day, Mom and Dad should give me a break right? At least cut that time in half or something.

But there was no compromise. I can vividly remember playing the piano for possibly the angriest 60 minutes of my life, and then spending the rest of the night in my room feeling very salty about having to practice piano on my 10th birthday. Could it get any worse?

It was maybe 2 or 3 birthdays after that year when I realized just how stupid I was during that unhappy 10th. As I thought about how mad I was that night, and exactly why I was mad, it dawned on me that hey, maybe my birthday really isn't all that special. I mean, so what if I happened to be born on a certain day, big forking deal. Why should that entitle me to rule the universe every year when that day rolls around?

Don't get me wrong, the birthday treatment is a nice tradition, and I don't think it's bad at all to make people feel special on their birthdays. All I'm saying is that sometimes we might make too big a deal out of something that is just supposed to be a simple little occasion.

On my 10th birthday, My Unreasonable Expectations + My Parent's Rational Expectations = Negative Fun. If it had been just any other day, I would have only been mildly annoyed about having to practice piano. It really wasn't my parents' fault for making me mad - it was my own fault for making myself mad.

So now, this memory kind of serves as a reminder to myself every January, that my birthday isn't really that much more important or different from any other day. That even though people may call me to say Happy Birthday, buy me presents and shots, and Todai may give me a coupon for a free meal, I should remember not to let it get out of hand.

On my birthday, I increment my age by 1 year. Everything else is just frosting on the cake.

More Thoughts

I didn't get as much pictures throughout the week as I wanted to, but I still have some. Maybe I will post them sometime.

My family gave me a new watch. I thought about taking a picture of it on my wrist and posting it too, but then it reminded me too much of Seinfeld where George was a hand model. So I didn't.

Illini vs. Wisconsin was a great game. Since I didn't think people were interested in reading about Illini basketball in every single entry, I have consciously tried to hold back from writing about them too much. But even the Arizona fan I know has been encouraging to write about them, so I'm taking that as a free pass to talk about the Illini as much as I feel like it. You don't have to ask twice.

This could be such a special season for the Fighting Illini and all the fans. In fact, it already has been very special. A lot of people believe that it would be good for this team to lose a game before tournament time, but I don't think I agree with that. Just because other undefeated teams haven't been doing well in March doesn't mean that this team can't. Fore one, unlike Stanford and St. Joe's last year, we have already played a bunch of very tough games this season and passed with flying colors in every situation. It's not a "weak" 21-0 record by any means. Now, as long as we still get a #1 seed, I wouldn't be that upset about a loss or two. But I can't help but imagine how awesome it could be if someday we could look back at the 2004-05 Fighting Illini as one of the legendary teams in the history of college basketball, as an unbeaten champion. That's getting way ahead of ourselves at this point though, for all I know, we might very well lose this next game at Michigan State. That's a very tough team, just a little inconsistent. So I'll stop talking for now, and we'll all just watch and see what happens with this season.

As I turned 25 this week, my car turned 40,000. In a little over 2 years I have put 40,000 miles on my baby, kind of scary to think about it. It's been a fantastic 40,000 miles too. Lots of great memories associated with this car already, and I really haven't had a single problem with it yet. I really hope I drive this car for at least another 10 years or even longer than that.

This is an interesting story: "I don't like Monday 24 January"

Looks like my birthday is a day of peak misery. (In Cartman's voice) "Sweet"