Santa Monica, CA, where I grew up; a view of the downtown skyline from Santa Monica Pier, which I’ve always enjoyed
I hope this doesn’t come off as narcissistic, but I just feel that I couldn’t have a blog like this without posting some thoughts about my birthday.
Which commences in roughly twelve hours from this writing as I will enter my 48th year.
So what are my thoughts of the day I was born?
To be honest, they are sort of mixed.
On one hand:
I am extremely grateful and thankful that I am able to add another candle to my birthday cake, as I always make a special point to say two specific thank-you prayers, along with my other praying; one on my birthday and one on the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Day, as thanks to God that I am alive to see another year.
Particularly considering the health issues – hypertension, high cholesterol, trying to keep my blood sugar down, being overweight and trying to shed pounds – that I have and are working hard to control.
On the other hand:
Compared to how I pictured my life now when I was a kid, let’s just say it hasn’t exactly turned out the way I had planned.
Not even remotely close.
As one singer-songwriter put it in one of his tunes about a decade ago:
“I’m looking back and I wonder what went wrong.
I really thought by now a few things might just clarify,
I’ve got a mind that goes out to lunch for days,
And a body that sometimes disobeys…
I’m still at an awkward age.”
Not that I think I’m alone in these thoughts, as I’m aware that plenty of folks in my age group have similar convictions.
Which unlike in the past – when I was struggling with depression over the fact that largely because of my Asperger’s Syndrome and the social inappropriateness and awkwardness that comes with it, I was seen by at least some if not many as an annoying so-called dork – does not “bum me out” as much as it once did, for lack of a better term.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more grateful I am over being (at least by American society’s standards) “middle-aged” and still breathing.
And as glad as I am about adding another number to my age, this is not by any means considered a major milestone birthday for me as in two years, I and everyone else born in 1967 will be celebrating their 50th birthday.
Which certainly induces a feeling of “Trip Out” in me as I plan to do something very rare around this time in 2017:
Throw a party.
Living for fifty years as an African-American male in America with a form of Autism Spectrum Disorder calls for a commemoration, I think.
Not that it will be any kind of big-time formal affair, however, as I plan on having a very simple and very informal soiree; no suits or elaborate dresses or prom-style atmosphere or anything like that, as that is not my style and never will be.
In the meantime, I’ll be content to quietly celebrate turning 48, go somewhere for a midday meal, accept “Happy Birthday” wishes from anyone who wants to make such, and perhaps visit some place where I haven’t been in a long while; I don’t know where yet.
The bottom line, as far as my personal birthday wishes?
That the day will be a good one.
A view of the Santa Monica Mountains and Malibu from Palisades Park, one of the three things about living in Santa Monica that I enjoyed the most along with the afternoon sea breeze and Campos Tacos, a restaurant two blocks from where I lived whose food I have eaten for forty years.