On turning 25

This Friday, I will be turning 25, a quarter of a century old. Yippee. I keep telling people how I’m irritated because I can’t even say I’m in my early twenties, now, I’m officially on my way to 30, or halfway to 50. I say this to people who normally don’t ask, because they don’t really care how I feel about turning such a pathetically young age. I’m not really sure why I care, to be honest.

            I’ve never really been big on birthdays. Frankly, the only good thing about having your birthday in December is it gives you an opportunity to “combine” Christmas and birthday presents for something really awesome. But, this is not a very big upside. The only big present I remember combining as a child was a 10-gallon aquarium with some colorful fish. It was awesome for a while, but then it eventually ended up being a constant battle of keeping the tank clean, replacing dying fish, and a running joke in high school about having crabs.
            Really, a birthday in December means everyone’s usually too busy celebrate your birthday, especially when my brother and my sister started playing basketball. I personally was just a spectator at these games. I came to realization I was not an athlete during my first volleyball game (as if the years of weak t-ball games weren't enough). It was during this game that I learned that a serve that hits you in the face is a legal hit, and still in play. Sadly, I learned that lesson twice that game.

Even if we weren’t busy, it’s usually too cold or crappy outside to do anything worthwhile. There’s also a good chance there will be a Christmas tree on your store-bought cake (see: “too busy”), and when you get into college, no one wants to go out because your nerdy friends are studying for finals at that time.

            It’s not that people in my life haven’t tried. One childhood birthday that really sticks out in my mind was my ninth birthday. I really wanted to go to the Pizza Peddler in Sioux City. For those of you who are not familiar with the rejuvenation of the old stockyards of Sioux City, Pizza Peddler was the like hillbilly equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese. I was pumped to go, but, unfortunately, Iowa weather reared its ugly head and we were hit with a blizzard.

Now, my mother is a weather fanatic. She watches the Weather Channel like most men watch ESPN. I would say that she nervously bites her nails on a cloudy day, but that would mean she would have to put on new nails. So, she verbally projects her concern instead. Repeatedly. Her philosophy, “there’s a 20% chance of precipitation, I’m not chancing it. It’s not worth it.”

Normally, I would downplay the weather that night and say it was just a few flakes, but this was a pretty bad storm. I sat at the top of the stairs listening to my mom use worried tones with my father as he cleaned up from the hog barn. Likewise, he is elected to give me the bad news. I am beckoned downstairs, already dressed and ready to go.

“Sugar, it’s really bad outside. I don’t think we can go to Sioux City tonight,” he says to me.

I stare at the floor, trying as hard any nine-year old girl can not to cry.

“Look at me,” my dad said.

I have to look. My chin is trembling, and I’m trying to stay strong.

“Did you really want to go tonight?” He asks me.    

I want to say I understand, but I can’t speak otherwise I will start hysterically bawling.

I already got enough shit from my older siblings about being a crybaby, so I only manage a nod.
            “Will you be really upset if we don’t go?” he asks.
            I don’t know how to respond to this. So I just stay silent.
            “Well,” my dad said. “Let’s get in the car.”
            During the 50 mile and almost two hour car ride to Sioux City, there were white knuckles and little noise, but we made it to find a nearly deserted Pizza Peddler. The teenage employees were not psyched to see us.

It was a memorable birthday. The machine-powered coyote that brought out your pizza kept shorting out. The teenagers running the voice of the coyote were giggling and saying inappropriate things. We ate pizza and I got to try my first hand at bumper cars. In my allotted time, I found two defective bumper cars. By the time I found a winner (a car that ran) I had just enough time left to get stuck in a corner by my two siblings.
It was a birthday I will never forget.

Despite the complaining, I’ve never had a bad birthday, but I’ve just learned to not make it a big deal. This year, I decided to make it a big deal. A friend from work shares my December birthday pains and we decided to have a joint party at my house. Weather and finals weeks snuck in their inevitable interference (damn you, grad school friends) and some people could not make it. Mid-twenties is a wierd age. There are new reasons for missing a social gathering, ones I never fathomed I'd experience until "I was older." I now have friends that deal with babysitting issues, moving, starting new jobs, lack of vacation time, lack of funds and other things.
Even with some cancels, I had plenty of people at my house. I was happy to see that I have so many friends, some of which drove quite a way just to stay one night to celebrate with me.

            Through my fifth cup of jungle juice I found myself in the lower level of my house talking to a co-worker. I remember rambling about something no one cares about and started to reach for the high school cheerleading pictures. This is a key indicator, as accurate as a litmus test, to indicate that I have had too much to drink. Nobody needs to see those. Luckily, I can’t find the pictures. I realized, at that moment, that I need to stop living in the past.
            So, I apologize to anyone who has had to sit through my gallery of smiling, skinny high school photos, and how I lament on how I could have and should have gone to this program or that. I am sorry I rudely spouted off grades and ACT scores, because it doesn’t matter to anyone else. Why should it matter to me? What’s wrong with my life now? Absolutely nothing.            

             So, in my 25^th year, I had a good birthday that I celebrated with good friends. I’m starting my Master’s degree and am going to stop bitching about what things used to be like, and start looking at what they will be like. I will acheive this 5k, among other things.

             Hopefully, I will  have many more birthdays to dread.