I was born in the Chinese General Hospital. Mama said that right after she bore me out as her first born, some doctors went to visit her and she was handed an envelope with Php2,500 in it as a gift. I know I shouldn’t account myself as the holy child, but the doctors surely reminded me of the Magi.
Yesterday I turned twenty
two three four. Yesterday I turned twenty four, and contrary to what I expected, my day turned out fine. After celebrating most of the pre-Christmas days [almost] alone, I thought that I would spend the day by myself again, maybe answering a few phone calls, thanking friends’ and random people’s greetings, maybe going out on a simple lunch with my roommate. Note: most of my friends are in the province for the holidays.
Well, thanks to J The Roommate for sharing a hearty breakfast with me amid all the coughs and colds. And thanks to the savior of the day, Jerome for agreeing to walk with me through the savage tiangge jungles of Quiapo so we could dine in Chinatown. It was nice spending a portion of my day on the streets of Binondo, as if remembering that I was born in a ‘Chinese region.’ This, ladies and gentlemen, is my tackiest perception and definition of full circle.
Then we went straight to Trinoma to meet with Twinkle who was apparently just around the area. After meeting with Twinkle, we hit karaoke and there I found out two things: one, I am a better singer than Jerome is; two, he’s tone deaf. HAHAHA. Kidding. As we headed back home, we were lucky enough to catch the SM North fireworks display, which, according to Jerome, was really intended for me. Haha. Around 10pm, we saw another fireworks display from my apartment window; this time, from Marikina. And before December thirty ended, we beheld another fireworks display from somewhere in Quezon City.
To be honest, I was a little unhappy that the moon wasn’t full on my birthday this year, but who am I to ignore three grand fireworks displays on my birthday? I may not have celebrated the day with my family, but who am I to say what is enough company?
Since I was younger, I chose to suspend all blowouts and parties on my birthday, since the next day would be new year. At a young age, I realized that it is more practical if we would prepare a feast just once, that is, on the 31st. It is still the same this year–no fancy dinners, no absurd balloons in technicolor, not even a cake.
It’s still the same old thing, only there were good friends willing to spend it with you, and chinese noodles for long life, and karaoke mikes, and talks over coffee, beers, and three august fireworks displays.
The problem with my birthday is that it was positioned in a date where everyone’s commemorating the national hero, and everyone’s itching to face the new year. That’s why many people forget, plus I do not announce it on Facebook. For the longest time, I have been wondering if some people ever realized that the years have been passing without them greeting me a happy birthday. Not that I value greetings and gifts. But to be fair, every single greeting counts for me. I see it as a validation of yearly existence. Of silent passing from the crowd of excited giddy folks.
It always feels so good to know that people remember. It really does.