21-Up

Today was my birthday.

Officially, if you abide time and stuff, I will be twenty one once the clock strikes 11:30pm on November the second of this year.

No, this is not me begging for people to wish me a happy birthday or anything like that, I was just stating a fact.

This morning, I woke up and was greeted by my mother. In one hand, she held a card, and in the other a thing that I didn't really think about. I opened the card, and it was the usual fair; "congratulations on living, we're rather fond of your existence" type of thing.

I was then given a gift. Since we're not a well-off family, I assumed it was just a filler, something that she wrapped up just so I could open something on the day of my birth.

I opened it, and it was a ball of bubble wrap. Fair be, I thought.

I then began to open up this ball, which at its centre was an iPod Touch. It didn't matter from what generation it was, an iPod's an iPod at the end of the day.

My first thought, and the first thing I said, after realising what they bought me was are you sure you can afford this?

My mother said they could. She bought it in a sale and slapped it on the credit card. She added that she thought it would be better for me to have a dedicated MP3 player than using my phone, as my old iPod died a few weeks back.

That statement has stayed with me all day. My family have spent years saving up for things. I remember for months, if not years, we were living in a house where we could have no electricity or heating for hours or days. The first computer we had was this weird franken-computer from old pieces years after they started to be big.

For my past few birthdays, all they did was give me some money. Nothing major, just a tenner, or maybe fifteen if things were looking up. So, for them to get me an iPod Touch for something such as my twenty-first... I don't know why, but that hit me big time.

I've never really valued money in the same way as others seem to do. For me, money is not something to just flitter away for a cheap laugh; it's a necessary part of life where it must be treated right.

Maybe some people will look down at me, think I'm just a hoarder, someone who would rather see the colour of money than happy days or whatever. That's not the case. I just never want to be in that situation if/when I have children. Same goes for anyone I care about.

I'm getting off topic. Anyway.

My mother then asked if I had anyone on Facebook asking me why my birthday's not visible. I just said that I don't see the point advertising my birthday to everyone, just so they could quickly write something simple on my wall. I find that just as awkward as someone coming up to me and making me sing happy birthday to a stranger.

I can't explain why, it is just like that for me.

That's why, if I ever wish someone a happy birthday, I always do it via textual communication, and even if I do it would be later in the day.

Anyway, safe to say that only family members have remembered. Which is fair enough. I'm not complaining, considering I've never really publicised my birthday at all.

In work, towards the afternoon, they planned a little thing, which ended in me taking home a piece of cake (which my parents ate, I'm no fan of cakes m'self), a card with all nice words from the people who work there and an A3 piece of paper that has Happy 21st Birthday Gareth! Promo love you. Oh, and the memory of the accountant trying to serenade me. I'm pretty sure I'll never say that again for a long while.

But other than being pre-occupied with the thought of my parents getting me something I thought they wouldn't and what had happened in work, it was a rather normal day.

Which is was my birthday is, really.

So, twenty-year-old me is now dead. Hopefully, twenty one-year-old me would have better luck with everything.

Have a good'un.

- FIN times eight. FIN. FIN. FIN. FIN. FIN. FIN. FIN. FIN.