I turn 31 years old today. Meh. 

But about a week ago, as I started to think about my impending birthday, I realized I was dreading receiving the endless stream of happy birthday's on my Facebook wall. It's become so commonplace.

Why wouldn't they tough right? Takes a few seconds and you can pretend to care about someone. Facebook has made it incredibly simple to know which of our friends are celebrating birthdays with that handy reminder in the top-right corner. And navigating over to their wall and leaving a two second note? I've done it countless times myself. Totally meaningless.  As we all know by know, connectivity and depth are two very different things.

So yesterday I started to run an experiment. I shut off my Facebook Wall settings so that no one else could post anything. And then I wrote the folllwing on my wall:

This is totally gonna backfire, but to everyone who might start wishing me happy birthday on Facebook tonight, I've decided to experiment. I feel that Facebook has made connecting with people (especially on bdays) a bit too easy and mundane. So with that in mind, if you really want to say Happy Birthday, send me an email or a FB message with a shared memory of the two of us. That's all I am asking and thanks in advance

What I expected would happen is that lots and lots of people who I am technically FB friends wouldn't even bother. "You mean I have to send him a note? Like actually take time out of my day and connect with this person? And what's more I have to come up with a shared memory? What a DICK!"

Well, I am a dick. Also generous and sweet and kind. And if we don't have memories together that are worth recounting for you, then what good are you? None.

As of this writing I have received dozens of messages and emails, and it seems that people are really digging this. And more importantly, almost all of the memories I had totally forgotten about. Drunken rampages in Brooklyn, concerts in cities I had forgot I ever travelled to, lots of "remember that time we made out once" (yes, i'm a whore), friends from previous careers, decades, Big Lewbowski festivals, a late-night pool game in the hamptons with beautiful male models who smoked more weed in an hour than i've smoked in the last decade. The list goes on.

I can't to see what other memories and stories I get today. And now the only question is how do I chronicle them all?