Tomorrow is my birthday. Funny I even notice that, since my family never celebrates birthdays. It's not as strange as it seems, for my native culture originally did not celebrate birthdays, and my parents refused to adopt that frivolous imported custom. Besides, didn't King Solomon in the Bible say that the day of death was better than the day of birth?
My whole life I received only two birthday cards. One was from a girl in high school, the other from a young woman in graduate school. Both of them cared enough to ask me when my birthday was. Both of them faded out of my life a long time ago. I know the high school friend is happy, and I think the graduate school friend has found her own happiness too.
On this day before my birthday I'm still wondering why I was born at all. Was it simply the result of a biological process or was there more meaning in it that I joined the billions of thinking bipeds who strive for survival on this small planet in this particular four-dimensional universe?
My weltschmerz again. Fortunately the sun is shining outside so I'm going out to get some warmth on my face.
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