Today, I turn 33.

I feel like 33 is one of those years where a person either goes into a state of deep introspection, examining life’s achievements to date and its future promises with the aim of finding the sort of peace that becomes especially comforting as the specter of 40 nears….

…or playfully makes comments, ad nauseum, about being SO OLD.¹

Today, I’ll do neither.

Not because I’m too nihilistic or ignorant to think that this sort of introspection wouldn’t be useful nor because I think my sense of humor is above making pedestrian jokes which have the same lack of forethought as asking a colleague “Plans for the weekend?”

But because it would be a waste of a rare, once-a-year opportunity to do whatever my heart desires.

Birthdays are the one day of the year where we can ask for – perhaps even demand, as long as it isn’t in the style of Veruca Salt – the things that will bring us great joy and delight, even (and especially) if they are a little absurd, without any question of utility or aesthetic taste:

“You want to have a dinner for 20 at the vegan restaurant? Fantastic – we’ll all enjoy ourselves and get burgers on the way home.”

“You want to go to a Dodger game even though I couldn’t tell a fastball from a forward pass? Amazing – I’ll bring my dad’s old mitt and a couple of $20s for overpriced beer.”

“You want a cake in the shape of a giraffe, only made from cured Spanish meats and cheeses? Exciting – I’ll call all of the charcuterie shops in the area.”

364 days out of the year, these are the things that can elicit groans and a hard pass from most of our loved ones. Yet for this one day, as if it fell straight from the Twilight Zone, these requests tend to have the opposite effect.

Why is this so? I believe it has to do with the fact that these are the things that reflect the vast collage of whimsical quirks, nuances and traits that form our character. Our beautiful fucking selves. The people who love us do so because of this beautiful fucking self and every quirk that it consists of, save for a couple of annoying tendencies. And because birthdays are intended to honor the magical existence of one beautiful fucking individual, then it only makes sense to honor a person in the manner that best reflects the magic of their existence.

That’s not to say you should read this and proceed to ask your family go skydiving with you on your birthday.² But to choose to do something primarily out of convenience or because it might be expected if you? NO. There are plenty of other days in the calendar year for that.

Naturally, this idea goes well beyond soirees, fetes and other forms of social gallivanting. It applies to the choices we make for ourselves on our birthday.

Sometimes, a gathering is the last thing we need. Instead, we need a good book and a bath. Or a solo trip to a museum. Or to walk on a beach for hours and stare at the surf. Or to devour a cake, modestly sized or not, in the presence of a soothing Netflix selection. Totally fucking cool. As long as it honors who we are and feeds our spirit, then there is no need for justification.

In fact, other than having my carnivorous, somewhat unadventurous (yet still bloody awesome) family go out with me for some inventive vegan brunch fare at a “sleek, minimalist eatery” (Google’s words) in a hard-to-park hipster neighborhood³ the day after, I’m devoting a good part of this birthday to solitude. Phone off, book in hand, tuning out the world for a couple of hours. Because, for whatever reason, this sacred space is what my heart craves at this moment. And sometimes it’s hard to have this sort of space without the feeling of guilt⁴ gnaw quietly at your psyche.

I’m also going on a four-hour run at 3:30 am⁵, but that’s just because I’m a dedicated nutter. I’d be doing that part of me a disservice if I didn’t do so :-).

And possibly the cinema. It’s been awhile.

Now, one may argue that, if we truly honor ourselves, we should already be doing what makes our hearts happy on a daily basis – regardless of whether that day happens to be the anniversary of the one time a masked stranger with cold hands pried us from our mother’s womb. That is true. We should strive to appreciate and fulfill ourselves every day. However, life is filled with realities that are impossible to always cast aside. Work. Bills. Responsibility. Accountability. Discomfort. Sleep. The Needs of Others. As idyllic as it would be to always follow our hearts, sometimes we have to set desires aside momentarily to serve something a little bigger than ourselves.

Yet there is no better, convenient and poignant day than the birthday to cordon off a sizable chunk of time for the things that make our hearts come alive. Celebrating our birthdays in the way that we see fit is a way of honoring ourselves, the beautiful fucking humans we are. And if we don’t stop to honor ourselves, even with just the simplest of gestures, what are we telling the rest of the world about how to treat us?

If you’re a good human – and you probably are, you lovely son of a bitch – you do a lot to love, treasure and honor the people in your lives. To have the energy to do this in the first place, you have to be able to love, treasure and honor yourself as well. Most people are pretty good at that. Even so, birthdays offer a unique opportunity to crank up the decibel level of self-love to ego-shattering heights. Why not shake the rafters?

On Sunday, I’ll still be 33. 33 + 1 day is not a bad time to do some deep reflection on the state of my creativity or groan about my achy hips.

But for this one day, it’s more than okay to be selfish. In fact, it’s beneficial. Because it’s this sort of appreciation for self that enables me – and all of us – to better appreciate everyone the other 364 days of the year.

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¹I’ve had grey hairs since my early 20s and probably tapped my reservoir of “I’m getting old” jokes a long time ago.

²You can, however, ask your significant other, as I did in 2012. In spite of some initial trepidation, she ended up being pleasantly surprised.

³Probably my father’s worst nightmare. He’s already asked if they serve hamburgers and I’ve already given him a free pass to pick up a burrito to eat on the way.

⁴Examples include, “I should be writing” / “This book is too fun, I should be learning something. What about that business book on my shelf?” / “Ugh, I really do need to go to the gym”

⁵That said, some birthday wishes will have to wait. Because we’re down to the wire on training, the brewery jaunt with the fellas that I also want to do is going to have to wait until after this ultramarathon in two weeks. Hills first, hops later.