My birthday has always been during the first week of school, or earlier. Last year, I moved into my apartment and celebrated with an intimate dinner amongst my sincerest pals two days before classes started. 

The first weekend on campus, after all the syllabi had been reviewed and all the classes located, I threw a birthday party.

A “Brat” themed extravaganza was held in my honor due to my obsession with Charli xcx. Months of thought had been put into the party, and the guest list was extensive. I felt like a high-end public relations executive putting together the most lavish party in Hollywood.

Now, one year later, I have begun the great creative process of planning my next birthday fiesta. I have a pitch presentation to the birthday CEOs — my close friends — about this year’s plans coming up, so I’ve been pretty busy as of late.

I remember how I combed through names for weeks last summer, deleting and adding people as the time got closer. The cabinet reshuffle took many consultations, extended brainstorming and various feedback sessions with a core social committee group of my choosing.

When I released my invitations, a relief swept over me. Finally, everyone I really wanted to be there had been invited and everyone else was free to enjoy their night outside of my chambers.

A success! Having your birthday typically be the first party of the semester is a lot of pressure, but it gets it out of the way for the year. I usually have extra bandwidth to pay attention to other people’s celebrations. I’m lucky to have a lot of friends who enjoy a party, and I have the grand privilege of being invited to a couple birthdays as the seasons change.

While I observed my own friends’ party planning tactics and after being allowed at a few celebrations, I began to realize how crucial birthday parties are in the social sphere of college.

It seems to me that nobody really recognizes it, but birthday parties are extremely political.

Much like a bridezilla recreating her wedding seating chart over and over again, I took notice at how much thought went into the invitation list. I saw one friend of mine sorting through people as if she was trying to decide which clothes to donate: each person went into a yes, maybe or no category.

This was comical to watch, as I read familiar names being pushed to and fro around her notes app. She even made a communication plan, deciding who was going to get the Phase A invitations. Those with diplomatic immunity were able to RSVP weeks before the party, while the lower phases of communications received a message a mere week or days before the party.

Sometimes I forget to invite people, and when I run into them at the local campus haunt, their sparkle reminds me why they should’ve made the list. 

Thus, I tend to always invite an extra 15 people days before my own gatherings, but I had never realized I could create a detailed plan for my silly birthday party. I always figured I would keep that level of communicating in the past with my corporate internships.

Being invited is the least interesting part of the birthday gala. When I get to the actual parties, I tend to take notice of who’s there and who’s not. If I’m not too out of my mind, I’m focused on networking with other partygoers.

“How do you know the host?” “I didn’t know they were seeing each other?” or “Where’s so and so, I thought they were friends?” These are all questions that may arise once I’m settled in, and they open interesting avenues of discussion.

These events showcase who’s with who, which groups are still kickin’ it together and where you stand within the spider web of Champaign-Urbana subcultures.

I had an unfortunate confrontation with a friend-in-limbo over their final birthday invite decisions. My trio and I experienced a scandal, a leak in confidential information in which we were the subjects.

For the first time ever, my group of gals and I were uninvited from a joint birthday party — double the social capital — and cast to the lower tier of celebration: an open invite to a Time Warp Tuesday the following night.

None of us attended as we were obviously offended. Who wouldn’t take it personally at first? Even through my anger, it helped me investigate these friendships more deeply. I thought I had been neutral toward these people, trying to mitigate the crisis during the aftermath of a romantic blunder, but to no avail.

The trio’s debrief that night belongs within the shelves of the Library of Congress. It should’ve been recorded for historians to go back to, in order to learn about the impact of a single birthday party on an entire community of people.

I digress. We learned where we stood with these people, but why do we turn this celebration of another year around the sun into something business-like and serious? Why do we feel the pressure in both planning and receiving an invite?

At the end of the day, the core of a birthday party is to herd all your loved ones into the same place and celebrate your day. It doesn’t make sense to include those who don’t make you feel supported, appreciated, loved, etc. This line of thinking makes perfect sense until you’re the one who doesn’t get the invite, and you’re left feeling equivalent to Senator Aaron Burr with no say in arranging the menu, the venue or the seating. 

Yet, I must admit how freeing it can be to let the weight of these parties fall off your shoulders. Sometimes you won’t be included in the social lobbying effort for one reason or another, and that’s okay! Even if you’re at all unsure of inviting someone, I will say to follow your heart in whatever way you see fit.

It’s your party at the end of the day. As long as your home is filled with the people you care about whether it be just a few or many, I deem that a success.

As a student population, we should take the influence away from birthday parties. Let’s give these functions less power over us and our relationships.

Easier said than done, I know. It takes some mindset shifting and reframing (bleh! Therapy talk). It seems that invite lists shape relationships, themes reflect your creativity and your party-throwing skills are on the table for everyone to criticize.

This year let’s try to shift our birthday goals to work toward fostering an environment that you can fully enjoy, instead of prioritizing anyone else’s satisfaction. Partiers and birthday-planners, remember to celebrate yourself and focus less on the social-political sphere of C-U.

If you’ve read this far, consider this your unofficial invite. Not just to my birthday party, but to rethink how and why we celebrate. It’s time to enjoy your special day for once.

 Until next time!

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