As for the negatives, well they are too numerous to mention, ranging from the increased creepiness factor involved in ogling 18 year old girls (They were 12 when you were their age, pervert) to a steady increase in people my age who have accomplished just so much more than I have. I do not intend to age gracefully but rather to bitch and moan about it ad naseum until anyone in my vicinity who hears me so much as bring up the topic of passing time will flee my presence with reckless abandon, even if doing so may cost them their very lives. That's pretty much my modus operandi with most things, but age especially.
The truth is that I'm not so bothered by this particular ticking by of yet another fruitless year, not just because I've gotten so used to them but also because my birthday doesn't really matter to me anymore. I don't feel any desire to celebrate, I don't see it as a particularly good excuse to eat cake (who needs an excuse for cake?!) and I don't particularly want any presents that anyone could be reasonably expected to give me. Being born so close to Christmas was a real downer as a child (Everyone else got cupcakes in school while my birthday occurred during Winter vacation, and any kids who actually showed up at one of my parties just did it to kill time until Christmas arrived and THEY would be the ones getting toys. I also ended up pulling in about half the loot, since relatives firmly believe that a single gift could cover a birthday, Christmas, Channukah, Qwanza, and any other extraneous holidays someone may have left lying about if it were given in late December. Nothing says "I'm thinking of you all the time" like a single cable knit sweater once a year.) but these days being a late December baby means that I can slip under the radar and age when nobody's watching. Unlike people with June birthdays, who are expected to throw exciting summer parties to entertain the masses I get older while everyone's busy buying last minute Christmas gifts for people they hate. I don't have to do anything except be a year older the next time it comes up.
The truth is that I'm becoming so consumed with various ambitions and things I want to do that I hardly notice anything else these days. I'm not sure if such focus is a good thing or a sign of impending mental breakdown. Maybe both. Perhaps neither.
Next person to wish me a happy birthday will reap a swift and terrible vengeance.