I’ve always been kind of sentimental about birthdays. Maybe it’s the fact that I never really got a huge deal made out of my birthday (too close to Christmas), or maybe it’s the fact that I’m not an adult yet so I can still afford to be sentimental about some things, or maybe it’s just a combination of the two, but whatever the reason, I loooove birthdays. It’s your day; it marks the anniversary of something HISTORIC (your birth! obviously up there with the likes of the Declaration of Independence and International Peanut Butter Lover’s Day); and, aside from your deathday, it’s the day when others feel most obligated to do whatever you want! (When I die, I want people to mourn for me by wearing orange rather than black. Just sayin’.)
I had big plans for this birthday-which-happened-yesterday. I started making them about 364 days ago. I was going to go out for the longest run of my life; then I would hit up a frozen yogurt joint and eat the biggest cup of my life; then the next day I would bring my laptop to a cafe and work on my novel for two hours!! It would be epic.
And then you know what happened?
Before December even began, I injured myself running and had to take a two-weeks-and-counting break from all exercise. Then, the day before my birthday, I came down with acute bronchitis. Thank you, sick Father, for your wonderful germs. Now I’m taking a day off from school and trying to ignore the awful feeling of slacker-ness that is permeating my very bones as I blog, snooze, write, and read. December has always been my favorite month; but this year, it’s been kind of tough so far.
I need to feel productive in order to feel happy. (Hello, fellow Type A’s!) Running was something that offered that feeling to me in an amazing form. Somehow, a day couldn’t seem wasted if I had put in a good run. Now my injury has stolen that from me.
And my sudden virus has stolen my ability to go to school and take my mind off my sudden sedentary-ness, and stripped me of my will to do homework. I’ve been turning in papers with huge run-on sentences, an abundance of comma and semicolon and parenthetical overkill (like this post), because I’ve had a fever while I’ve written them. It makes my stomach churn. It’s not my best work. My teachers will think I have Problems. Somehow it feels like the world is going to come crashing down every time I guiltily hand over a substandard paper. I can’t take it back, and I wish desperately that I could be back to full health. #innerperfectionist is #screaminginagony
And yet? The situation has its perks. With the extra 30-60 minutes in my day that are suddenly freed up by my inability to run, I’ve been working on my novel at a NaNoWriMo level. (For those of you not in the loop, that’s 1,667 words a day.) I’ve worked more on developing recipes and savoring delicious food. I’ve indulged a little too often–it’s harder for me to stick to healthy eating habits when I’m not exercising–but I’ve enjoyed all those brownies, ice cream sundaes, slices of cake, and orders of popcorn. Blogging is a hobby that I love, and now that I’ve got six free hours of my life that would have otherwise been spent attending school, I can use it to spiff up some posts-in-draft that I’ve been wanting to publish for a while. And I’ve had more time for philosophical and religious thought.
And, most importantly, I can write this post; taking the time to reflect on the situation as it stands, realizing that I still have a multitude of projects I can be productive towards, and just remembering that I don’t have it so bad. My life at the moment is sheltered, cushioned, safe, amazing, bubbling over with opportunity and chances. When one door closes (running), another door opens (working on my novel and other creative aspects of my life).
Happy birthday to me!