Turning twenty nine

Birthdays, for me, would be indistinguishable from other days had it not been for my efforts to dramatize the whole occasion by assuming a solemn air. I think if I did not do that, I would forget that another year had passed and I had aged another year. So I do a lot of reflecting upon the year past. I think about the good times and the bad, the victories and the defeats, moments of ecstasy and pain. Usually I end the day with promises of repenting, plans of reformation and hopes of successes.

This time somehow, this thing about getting old and time passing by totally missed my mind(even though the weather was nice). What did hurt is this – some cruel friends instead of asking, \”how old are you?\”, have started saying, \”how old are you!\”!! When the interrogative changes into exclamation, it stings! 😉 Some jack asses continue the sentence with a \”ha ha ha!\”. I maintain a steady smile and reply, \”as old as you..\”

Why do people want to know your age on your birthday? Didn\’t they ask the same question last year? Why cant they just add one? For most people, their age is visible on their form, their face, their attitude and their body language. Hence, knowing the biological age serves absolutely no purpose. In fact you can\’t even predict when a person is going to die just by knowing his age. Of course if would serve some purpose for some people, e.g., if you\’re a beneficiary of a will or a life insurance policy, it will give you something to reverse-count. Inquiring about one\’s age on one\’s birthday is not only sadistic, its also discriminatory, racist and a cheap worthless stunt. It hurts the birthday boy/girl, it creates basis for groupism and discrimination, it gives some people an opportunity to laughs at the cost of others. But then there are others who are dying (pun unintended) to tell their ages. It brings them a sense of self importance and being mature. Say, you\’re out of your teens and want the world to treat you like a barrister, or say, you\’re a senior citizen and want to occupy the entire dance floor in a disco. I guess for most people, its only between 29 and 59 that you wish that you were not between 29 and 59. Those thirty years weigh heavily upon your head, your waist and your balls. You can call this phase the second puberty.

I personally believe the second best phase of my live has begun. I\’m more sure of myself and less embarrassed when caught with my pants down. That\’s growing up, isn\’t it? 😉

The best phase would of course begin at 40 and last till 60, when I\’ll derive my own definition of what is ethical and what is not; what is moral and what is not; and see the world through my own brand of colored sunglasses.

Till then, let me pick up my pants and move on..