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Nobody really remembers the birthday of a building. Buildings consider their birthday the first day in which the construction workers are done. From the germination of an idea to that point, one is simply in the womb and whatnot.

I am a building. I'm pretty old -- about fifty years old -- and have a sweet family living inside of me. They take care of me, fix me up, put nice new coats of paint on me and take care of my gardens. I love them. But, there's something that's been bothering me.

Today is the double celebration of the young daughter's eighth birthday and the grandmother's eighty-first birthday. Then it struck me. Nobody knows the birthday of a building. Well, no one remembers it anyhow.

Some buildings get special celebrations on their first birthday -- but even those birthdays get forgotten by the next year.

But why not? Why don't people celebrate our birthdays? We're living beings too. We grow, we die, and we -- just like people -- live varied lives.

Some of us have interesting lives, some of us normal an even straight up boring lives. Some of us are clean, some of us are dirty. We even get injured, can get growth spurts, and in some cases, amputated.

We die just like everyone else. We get run down and old with time without the proper care (sometimes even with the proper care).

So how come no one remembers our birthdays? It's sad, really.

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Posted by Kim @ 08:08 AM PST