Throwing My Own Birthday

Newsletter 2024-06-28

It’s my birthday! That’s a lie. By the time you read this, my origin date will have been yesterday. It’s a shame these newsletters come out with a delay. Maybe someday I’ll type fast enough to do them live. I’m a huge fan of other people’s birthdays. I’m not as enthusiastic about my own. I don’t need a reminder that I’m running out of time. Time to do what? Good question. Exist, mostly. I used to feel pressure to achieve something great or impactful—or maybe just insanely lucrative—but that desire has dulled over time. I’m finally old enough to realize that even the richest and most powerful people die and are forgotten. My only goals these days are to have fun and be happy. In other words, I chose a worldview that justifies my preexisting laziness. There were clues early on that this is where I was headed. Remember Bare Minimum Parenting? Now, it’s my whole personality. What I want from life is exactly what I have now, but for longer. It’s a shame birthdays signify that the gap between the present and the end is getting shorter. If you’re not at least a little bit fatalistic, are you even in your late thirties? I won’t be for much longer. I have one year left.

I used to believe adult birthdays weren’t worth celebrating. I’ve since done an about-face. As I’ve given up on greatness, I’ve embraced all the minor moments life has to offer. Birthdays are worth going all out for, but only if you do everything yourself. Expecting others to plan something for your big day on your behalf sets the scene for drama and disappointment. That was the rule at a former employer. My handful of co-workers and I had a birthday rotation where we took turns buying donuts or bagels for each other on our birthdays. It sounds simple enough, but in practice, it was nearly impossible. I can barely remember my own birthday and those of my family members. There was absolutely zero chance I was also going to stay on top of the birthday of a random work acquaintance. I’d usually remember I was supposed to pick up some specific breakfast dessert when it was already too late. Then the co-worker felt snubbed and I felt guilty. Stapler fights have been started over less. Then we fixed the system. We made it so that you brought in treats on your own birthday. That way, if you forgot, it wasn’t a slight; it was a choice. And thus peace was restored in the office, and no one’s feelings were ever hurt again—other than by the fact that we all had to go into the office to work. It doesn’t matter what the specific company is. Every in-person job is a sadness factory. Turn that frown into a thousand more frowns. 

My group of friends and I have followed a similar approach with birthdays.