It's That Time of Year

I shudder to say it, but this perch librarian is getting one year older at the end of the week.  Yes, you guessed it.  The b-day is looming on the horizon.  And I'm bracing for whatever is going to happen (and other than some quiet me-time for a massage, I have no idea who'll be phoning me out of the blue to disrupt my peace).  I'm with Scaredy Squirrel, a rodent popular with the library staff here, when it comes to that scary day of the year.

With that infamous day lurking ever closer, I've been giving some thought to the institution of birthdays in general.  Why is it when we're kids we love birthdays, even look forward to them?  We want the attention (not to mention the presents) that go along with this day that's supposed to be our special day.  We even take pride in being one year older because that means we're one year further away from the baby years; we're one year wiser, matured and improved (so we think).

How do we go, then, from loving our birthdays to cringing at the thought of them?  There are some people who apparently even hate their birthdays.  I suppose for me the downward slump started at my 16th birthday, which I spent at a convent.  Yes, you read that right.  Maybe I wasn't forced onto the road for Holy Orders, but who wants to spend her Sweet Sixteen with her parents at a holiday bazaar looking at Christmas ceramics?

Since that time I've had a love-hate relationship with my birthday: I love it when people remember me, but being a quiet, reserved person, I hate being the center of attention.

In case you're wondering, we have those in pagan times to thank for the celebration of the birthday.  During the pre-Christian era, people were noisy and happy around the honored person to ward off evil spirits.  Other traditions, such as cake, presents, and the birthday song that few people can sing in tune were added and evolved over the centuries.

I'm trying to keep a positive outlook on the situation, even looking up websites on how to enjoy the dreaded day.  If all else fails, I'll just simply duck behind my desk and keep out of sight, hoping people will pass me by.

Seeking sanctuary on the perch.