Alas, our splendid planet has made another 365 day cycle round the Sun a 15th time since I was born. There have been no dramatic changes. I’m still splendid. Homo economicus did a reflection on his blog when he turned 30, so I suppose that I ought to do the same.

I began my birthday with a 3 hour long standardized test that the school district is required to give us every year to measure our achievement. Today we took part of the Writing exam and part of the Mathematics exam. The fact that I could have done the 9th grade level math problems in 3rd grade and finished halfway through the alloted time, while a substantial percentage of students are unable to score partially proficient on the test, was lamentable.

Afterwards, I walked to the local Dairy Queen for lunch with two of my friends, one of whom was slightly high on pain killers because she had gotten a stick stuck in her leg the week before and still had stitches, and the other one was being slightly more introverted than usual. I was then stuck at school with nothing to do for an hour waiting for mum to pick me up.

I’ve never really done much for my birthdays in the past. The year I turned 13 I wasn’t exactly thrilled about becoming a teenager because at the time I thought that teenagers were crazy, depressed, and sex-deprived (I still kinda do). The year I turned 14, I invited 10 friends to a party at a local Chinese restaurant and a total of 5 showed up. I never really understood why we bothered celebrating birthdays other than to get the free presents and food.

As you can tell by my blog entries up until this point, I had already gained quite a lot of wisdom within 14 years on Earth. It’s not like turning 15 was going to give me a sudden burst of maturity and intelligence. I’m still going to be told that I can’t do certain things because of my age, no matter what my abilities are. There was no real reason to look forward to becoming 15.

But, I’ve only recently realized that I could have just as easily not been born at all, and I’ve only recently been able to realize that being able to come into the world is quite a wonderful gift. When you think about it that way, I definitely do think that birthdays are worth celebrating. If not for the gathering of friends who don’t show up anyway, then at least to celebrate the remarkable event of being able to be born into the human race during this time.

Cheers, and thanks to my four regular viewers.


3 responses to this post.

  1. Many Happy Returns!

    I was at University when I turned 21, and invited people to go to a pub in the evening for dinner. Only four of them went – along with a few friends that knew me. What no one knew till then was that my mother had given me money to celebrate – and that paid for all us to eat and buy drinks into the night.

    Getting back, when they mentioned it to the others they said if they had known they would have come. The point was I wanted people there that wanted to celebrate my birthday. Not least because I missed out on five birthdays thanks to the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

    The quality of friendship matters far more then the number of friends.

  2. Congratulations on your existence, and happy reminder-of-such! (I hope they at least let you leave early after you finished the test.) I’ve been lucky enough to have good friends who, last year on my birthday, forcibly dragged me to a wonderful hibachi restaurant and treated me against my protests.

  3. Happy Belated Birthday, Elles!

    For my fifteenth birthday I invited kids from my school to our house for a party. My mom freaked out because I invited boys. Boys! Imagine the horror of having boys show up to a party chaperoned by my parents. Scandalous! Or maybe it was because she realized I was growing up.

    Anyway, a birthday is only what you make it; what you want it to be. Celebrate in your own way. Enjoy the person you are.

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