I am now one year older.

There’s really nothing groundbreaking associated with being 17, except that you’re another year closer to being 18. The additional year doesn’t feel any different, as much as people keep asking how it feels to be another year older. Banalities have been spoken ad nauseum, among other birthday formalities I would very much like to avoid.

Tonight the family will dine at Olive Garden, a kind of safari in itself, like a bunch of rednecks at a science museum. We go nearly every year, and the experience doesn’t ever get any less awkward. I am always thankful for the waiters, the blessed patient people they are when it comes time to order. It’s already a stretch that we’re eating out (Mom: “Why pay money to go eat somewhere else when I can make the same thing better at home?”), and the parents don’t usually make a point of being all that gracious with the waiters; the scowl on their faces whenever anything extra is suggested (May I interest you in our desserts this evening?) is equally mortifying and amusing. And the waiters are awfully understanding and patient with them.

The great difficulty I have with birthdays, particularly my own, is due to my resolve to be as unremarkable as possible. Considering how inconvenient other peoples’ birthdays are to me, I figure the same is true for mine. It’s not humility so much as it is a dislike of scrutiny. Whatever critical interests people have are magnified ten-fold on a birthday, to the point where I am left in a sort of emotional limbo, trying to sustain a universally acceptable posture and facial expression. And then I’m told to relax and not be so tense.

Opening presents is always an adventure, especially this year since I didn’t request anything in particular. I can’t say I’ve ever really gotten a “bad gift” as defined by most normal people. Practicality is usually a plus when opposed to something nice but completely useless. As much as the giftee is scrutinized, the gifter is impressed upon immensely as well: a good indicator of what people think of you is what they get you on your birthday.

I don’t anticipate anything remarkable this year, just an occasion to mark another year of life. I also don’t plan to waste blog space and wax sentimental for those who crave sappy inspirational birthday memories. I’m going to eat Italian with Brazilians, that’s all the exciting it gets.

This entry was posted on Friday, May 30th, 2008 at 1:04 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.