Birthday Month By Xavier Axelson

I’ve decided not to age past 35.  This will be the last year I acknowledge age as a physical construct.  From here on out it is a myth, a generalization, a conclusion drawn and believed by other people.  It’s not that I’m afraid of ageing.  I just decided age stopped mattering.  If people can say that gender is an illusion and sexuality is an illusion, then certainly I am justified in saying age is also an illusion.  Maybe allusion would be a better word.

Yes, I am growing one year older.  This blog will be posted on said Birthday.  I am a birthday whore.  Let me explain.  Ever since I can remember, I celebrated the entire month of October.  I don’t know when this started but I’m pretty sure my mother is the culprit.  If she’s not it’s fun to blame her anyway.  I set rules around the month.  First off, No one is allowed to irritate me.  Said irritation can be stupid words spoken, irritating things done, drama delivered to my Birthday doorstep.

See how fun this is.

It’s amazing when you set up parameters how willing most people are to stay within the rules.  So when a friend or family member starts up with something irritating I look at them ever so gently and say, “It’s my birthday month.  Save it for November 1st.”

I also make it a point to do a little something for myself everyday of the month.  This may be taking an entire day and do absolutely nothing but lie in bed and read.  I always buy myself a new hardcover book on my birthday.  I read once that the most important day in a Satanist’s life is his/her own birthday.  I remember standing in the middle of Barnes and Noble where I read this and thinking, “am I a closet Satanist?”

Who knew?

One of my favorite birthday month memories happened back in High School.  I have a wonderful friend who took my birthday month celebration to new heights one year.  One day she decorated the entire hallway where my locker lived, the next she decorated my locker and filled it with gifts.  She then proceeded to bake me little delicious tidbits the entire week of my birthday.  These ranged from something called “Maryannes” to a huge birthday cake presented to me in the cafeteria in the shape of a pumpkin.  I also remember cherry cobbler.  Another friend made little cards that announced my birthday and handed them to people in the halls.

I was a guidance office aide (I was an early grad and had to do this task to get the hell out of high school) and on my birthday a huge pile of gifts was delivered to the guidance office where I sat innocently pretending to file college brochures.  All I remember is a Playgirl Calendar being among the gifts and that causing quite the stir.

I should state here and now none of these things were commissioned by the birthday boy.  I was oblivious to everything, oblivion being a close personal friend of mine.

I’ve had many wonderful birthday celebrations.  Elaborate, quiet, fun, glittering, over the top and subdued, always wonderful and filled with great people and most importantly amazing food.  On a more recent birthday while I was working as an event coordinator at a fancy Beverly Hills catering company I remember sitting in my office and upon hearing a flurry of “oohs” and “ahhs” coming from the entryway went to see what the commotion was about.  I was rewarded with one of the biggest flower arrangements I’ve ever seen.  There were dark purple roses, chocolate cosmos, blood red roses, chili peppers, and any number of other black, red, and orange flowers.  In the vase pomegranates floated benignly.  Attached to this amazing arrangement were a mass of balloons.  The most important part of the arrangement was the man  I loved carrying the vase and smiling shyly from behind the tangle of black roses.

The women I worked with were in shock and must have asked me a million times if he had a brother, hell, did he have a sister, I could hook them up with.

Alas, here I am on the verge of 35.  I look back fondly at all my birthday celebrations and thank you for looking back with me.  As I write this blog, I realized the reason behind my month long celebration of my birth.  It’s not for the presents, the treats, or the indulgence, it’s to celebrate life.  Something we should all do everyday and not just one day once a year.  I like taking care of myself and taking care of oneself is really about taking time for oneself and spending that time generously and lavishly.  Granted, we can’t do this everyday but why not hold onto the idea of everyday being a little mini birthday.  After all, it’s someone’s birthday somewhere and life is worth celebrating, every day.

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2 comments to Birthday Month By Xavier Axelson

  • Good luck on hanging with 35. I’ve done it for years, though it’s become more difficult now that our daughter is 38 and son turning 35. I still take my inner-35 year old out in public–she’s looking a bit worn, but I like to think her attitude hasn’t changed, even though she’s been around almost twice as long.

    You are so right–life IS worth celebrating, and you really are only as old as you think. Happy Birthday!

  • Emari

    Age is nothing but a number. It is how you feel on the inside my friend!