That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
That Girl from Derwent has learned a few more things about prejudice since moving up North.
That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
Today was a strange day.
Today I turned 24.
Somewhat predictably that makes today my birthday and at 11pm we are coming to the conclusion of things for another year. One can’t help but reflect and I find I stand at an odd junction.
I’m 24 (I’m trying to get used to saying it), single, live with my parents and I’ve just finished my latest temporary job – however, enough of the snapshot of my life - it’s only to give you a background as we begin my latest splattering of words under the loose manner of misanthropy.
This week… Birthdays!
When you are a little sprog, nothing is more exciting than your birthday. Parties, cake and gifts: things were simple. Now it’s a mass of effort on your part to get all of your unrelated friends together in one place, fill them all with booze and hope everyone has fun. No matter what you plan it never quite comes off (if you’ve ever seen the movie 500 Days of Summer, the expectations vs. reality scene is never more apt than for your birthday party) some people can’t make it, someone drinks too much and the girl you’ve got your eye on realises you’re a massive dickhead and pulls someone else…
… or is that just me?
Your cake is now a kebab and gifts rarely come in the form of something you couldn’t have afforded yourself or weren’t simply going to buy if it happened to be any other month.
The other thing about your birthday that happens at this age is you get a large collection of text messages/Facebook wall posts to show who’s remembered or been reminded by logging on to Facebook – somehow, the one person you want to leave you a message doesn’t. Or they simply write ‘happy birthday’ rather than declaring their undying love for you and breaking into song.
It seems all you get now is an empty wallet, a hangover and a reflection of another year gone where you haven’t quite got things right.
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