I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

(as opposed to getting it on, gutter heads)

So this year, for my birthday I get to move up a box. You know when you fill your particulars up in a form where they collect demographic information? Under 18, 18 – 24, 24-34, etc? Well, I get to move up a box this year. Oh joy.

So on my long commute to work, I fume. Who got into this whole birthday thing anyway? We go around, happy birthday this and that. The birthday person gets treated like a good green tea tiramisu. For what? Just existing? What did she do except get coaxed down the birth canal? Are we all just victims of archaic traditions? Bah, wishing someone Happy Birthday. For what?

But hey, I send out birthday wishes. Why do I do that? Am I a superficial-traditional following conformist?

OMG!!!!

No, when I wish my friends Happy Birthday, I want them to know I care enough for them to want them to be healthy and happy for years and years to come. I want them to love every minute of life.

And I trust that those are my friends’ wishes for me as well, then. They do so because they care for me, and suddenly, my perspective on life turns a rosey hue.

I do not just exist, I now live, because I’m adding value. Somewhere, someone finds it justifiable to wish for my continued existence and well-being.

Now the Confucian will argue that this is Mom’s credit. Why? Because according to those traditional roles, mothers assume the responsibility of child bearing and rearing, while fathers assume the liability of child rearing.

I do believe those days are over. My parents co-operated on Project Me; conception is not a one-man show most times, and while Mom took care of my physical and emotional well-being, my father focused on my education. So while my mom takes care that I exist, my dad makes sure I live. One is meaningless without the other.

That, my friends, is the definition of synergy.

And so, today I made sure to wish my mom a Happy Labour Day, I also IMed my dad to tell him “Good Job”. They were suitably impressed.

And with that, we come back to the original conundrum. To Happy Birthday, or not to Happy Birthday.

It is my opinion, after careful deliberation, that Happy Birthdays, are little pockets of affection, and though we bask in knowing people love us, we are loved because of others.

So yes, absolutely. Happy Birthday away, and know that deep down in my cold, black heart, I wish nothing else but your health and happiness every day, even if I only tell you once a year. And when I do send it, kudos to the people who made you, who care more for your affirmation than credit from me.

Happy Birthdays – the gift that keeps giving.

Happy International Genius Day, friends!