May 10th, 2009. 05-10-2009. 5 x 2 = 10. Means mother’s day here in the United States. Mexicans celebrate May 10th as their mothers day, regardless (send a pun to Mr. George Lopez, plz).
25. 25 Random Things About Me. The square of five. The silver anniversary of a wedding. As of today, the number of Gregorian years I’ve accumulated. And of course, the quarter of the American dolla.
I’m a quarter of a century old! I’ve been telling that to people for so long, and now it’s my turn! Emphasis on the word “century”, which is used to denote a block of historical time, which is supposed to imply that I’m a walking piece of history. Imagine that, how would you like a piece of this walking history? Sounds like a pick-up line I could use later.
25 years means a lot of things socially here in the USA. Rent a car without the extra fee. Can’t qualify for Real World on MTV anymore. Officially, officially an adult, no more of this 18-24 youth bullshit, it’s for real. Over a century ago with life expectancy at 43-47 years, I’d a been well into my mid-life crisis.
I don’t know if that quarter is supposed to mean that I’m done with a quarter of a life that will be 100 years or if I’m halfway to 50, or 25 years is the whole, the completion of something. The birthday at once celebrates a biological feat, but is organized and recognized primarily socially, around a calendar system, which is organized roughly around centuries of human-determined lunar and solar system cycles.
I celebrate 25 years arranged around a Gregorian calendar and not an Islamic, a Hebrew, a Korean, or Chinese calendar. I’d be already 25 flirting and rubbing up on 26 if I went by the Chinese calendar.
What 25 years on May 10, 2009, Gregorian calendar means as far as solar-system, universe-moving events go is that the moon was roughly in the same spot it was approximately 9125 Gregorian days ago, when by a combination of chance and coincidence, I climbed out of my mom’s womb.
As far as circadian rhythms go, being born in May makes me predisposed to certain disease, my height, and apparently my life expectancy as written about in this study by Russell G. Foster and Till Roenneberg. Abstract found here.
Virtually all that I know and all that I’ve experienced in those 9125 Gregorian days has been tied to the various social networks with which I’ve been involved. I only act and experience based on what networks I’ve chanced upon in those 9125 days. But if I didn’t have that knowledge, what does 25 and May 10, 2009 mean from a purely, asocial, sensory-based human scale?
If I could diverge a bit from those social networks to which I’m inextricably bound, I wonder what I would know and have experienced had I just been raised ferally, that is dropped in the jungle with no connections to any other human and raised by the social norms of wolves or some shit, or been born autistic, or raised in the Piraha tribe, the tribe with no number system. Do other animals celebrate birthdays?
What would 25 years, 9125 Gregorian days, mean to me in those various, almost asocial situations? Would I even care?