Wow . . . it’s been a long time since I posted anything of length on here. Apologies. Life is somewhat hectic at the moment and whilst I’d love to share with you the random musing of my mind, there just isn’t time. Right at this moment, however, I appear to have a half hour to spare and that means I can entertain you with a little rant about myself.
In ten days time I will be EIGHTEEN years old. Eighteen!! Where have the years gone, I ask you?
As is customary on birthdays, my family and friends are hoping to buy me presents. There’s just one small problem: no one seems to know what to buy me.
Apparently turning 18 is quite a big deal, so there’s a lot of talk about buying something meaningful or that I’ll keep and remember. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another birthday. In fact, it might as well just be another day. I don’t see it as that big a deal. People do not like to listen to this argument however, and write me off as a sceptic, so I’ve to go along with the farse of caring (I am very excited about the ceilidh though!).
And whilst everyone wants to make a fuss and find the perfect gift, I’d be perfectly happy with one of the many books or CDs off my Amazon list. The best presents however, are of course the surprises that show someone was listening to the massive hint I dropped. Like the hand-crafted, ceramic goblet with little sheep on it which I saw in a craft shop once and immediately fell in love with. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to buy it. Three months later, Christmas rolls around and there it is beautifully wrapped from my parents. They are sneaky! I’m also a big fan of the practical gift, something I’ll actually use, like a scarf a friend gave me. Not the type of thing I would have worn previously but it was such a good choice of colour and I like it so much that I wear it all the time!
Simple things with some thought behind them.
The other day we were talking about shoes in my english class (as you do) and I mentioned that I’d always wanted a pair of ethically made trainers. Two minutes later and my friend says she wants to run her birthday present idea by me – a pair of customised Nike trainers. Does anyone else see the irony and complete contradiction there?? If she really wants to buy me a pair of shoes I think I just gave her a pretty big hint as to what ones to buy!
I don’t know. Every year, when it comes to Christmas and Birthdays and every one is complaining that they don’t know what to get me, I can’t help but think, “Well you clearly don’t know me very well then do you? Because I know exactly what I’d buy myself!” Then I start to wonder if it’s my fault that they don’t know me. Or I’ll question how much they care if they don’t know me well enough to buy me a gift. Questions, questions, questions. My own mind once again becomes my worst enemy.
So here’s my solution. Don’t buy me things, buy my parents things. It’s not like I’ve done anything to deserve presents, I’m just fortunate enough to have woken up once again. My parents on the other hand have raised me and given their earnings and lives to do so. So, if you think they’ve done an alright job, buy them a present on April 14th.