For a lot of people, turning twenty-one is a pretty big deal. They start planning their parties months before the actual day, and scrimp on their meals so that every cent they have can go towards making their parties all the more fabulous.
For most of my life I thought I wanted a huge party too. To be specific I wanted a marquee, preferably on a nice stretch of beach, where my guests would gather singing praises and bearing expensive gifts.
There are two rather large problems with this vision. First, I am a socially inept person who hates crowds. Second, I am unenviably poor and scarcely wont to spend my money on catered food for a hundred.
By mid-2009, hence, I had stopped dreaming about The Party That Would Put MTV To Shame. I started thinking about other ways I could celebrate my birthday. It had to be something special -- after all, it's the day commemorating everything about me me me.
Right when I was wallowing in all sorts of sinful, self-indulgent, narcissistic thoughts, something contrary crept into my head. Wait a minute, it went, other than the fact that you inevitably aged, I'm not sure you had much else to do with turning 21.
That's true, I answered (quite schizophrenically). It's always been my family that got me out of trouble, believed in me, clothed me (excessively), fed me (excessively as well), and tons more besides. If anything should be celebrated, it's their efforts.
So a week before my birthday, I set the gears of my wily plan in action. I told my family I hated cake and thus not to get it, then ordered a Sachertorte one from a restaurant.
On the day itself, after dinner, I got everyone to close their eyes while I made a speech and brought out the cake. Unfortunately I'm not someone who's good at talking about feelings, so the speech came out all awkward, and more funny than sincere. So I'm not sure if they got the gist of my speech, or that they understood where I was coming from, or how I really am thankful for everything they've done. They did demolish the cake though.
For most of my life I thought I wanted a huge party too. To be specific I wanted a marquee, preferably on a nice stretch of beach, where my guests would gather singing praises and bearing expensive gifts.
There are two rather large problems with this vision. First, I am a socially inept person who hates crowds. Second, I am unenviably poor and scarcely wont to spend my money on catered food for a hundred.
By mid-2009, hence, I had stopped dreaming about The Party That Would Put MTV To Shame. I started thinking about other ways I could celebrate my birthday. It had to be something special -- after all, it's the day commemorating everything about me me me.
Right when I was wallowing in all sorts of sinful, self-indulgent, narcissistic thoughts, something contrary crept into my head. Wait a minute, it went, other than the fact that you inevitably aged, I'm not sure you had much else to do with turning 21.
That's true, I answered (quite schizophrenically). It's always been my family that got me out of trouble, believed in me, clothed me (excessively), fed me (excessively as well), and tons more besides. If anything should be celebrated, it's their efforts.
So a week before my birthday, I set the gears of my wily plan in action. I told my family I hated cake and thus not to get it, then ordered a Sachertorte one from a restaurant.
On the day itself, after dinner, I got everyone to close their eyes while I made a speech and brought out the cake. Unfortunately I'm not someone who's good at talking about feelings, so the speech came out all awkward, and more funny than sincere. So I'm not sure if they got the gist of my speech, or that they understood where I was coming from, or how I really am thankful for everything they've done. They did demolish the cake though.
1 comment:
Sometimes the low-key celebrations are the more meaningful ones too :)
And sachertorte!! Which restaurant did you get it from, pray tell!
And I got a new blog; I am finally going to (attempt to) resume blogging regularly! :)
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