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Birthdays

June 22, 2016

My birthday just passed with probably a handful of people only remembering, such as: my officemates (thanks to that damn company calendar), my family, my Ninang, and a few close friends. I always hide on my birthday, not that I’m afraid of treating anyone, but I’m just never comfortable celebrating it, nor have I ever been used to greetings.

Why?

Here’s what I think: During my elementary to high school life, since my birthday falls on June, not a lot greet me because 1) I’m not a known guy in school; 2) If ever I was, I didn’t have a lot of close friends; and 3) if ever I did, the first week of school usually fall on June – hardly anyone really knew anyone in the classroom.

What do I do during my birthday though?

Whenever anyone asks me what I want, as far as I could remember, I’ve always wanted to just eat good food. Maybe I’m a little too picky, that if ever I wanted to receive anything, it should be something I really loved, else I can’t really fake a “thank you, I love the gift!” I’m not a very convincing liar.

My birthdays nowadays are still usually spent just eating. If I wanted anything, I’ll just go get it myself. I still prefer to just eat good food, which on this year’s birthday, I went out to eat at Banri Noodle House – I still prefer their Ramen over any other Japanese Restaurant pending other suggestions.

Who did I greet on my birthday?

My parents. After my mom greeted me, I replied a hearty message for both her and my dad. I told them that the day was for them. I thanked mama for squeezing me out, and to both of them for raising me to be who I am right now. I am a good[citation needed] member of society, I’m not batshit insane, and I function properly (albeit a little awkward) around people.

I think that’s how it should be though. My birthdays never should be about me. During my early years, I didn’t do anything to survive revolutions around the sun. My parents did all the work to keep my alive and well. They put up with my mischievous childhood and my failures, and my damn sickly health. I got hit by a car on my 5th year, suffered a fractured skull, a broken wrist, and I’m sure my parents spent a lot to just help me survive. They taught me values of how to treat other people, to be respectful and kind.

My birthdays are anniversaries – annual reminders of my parents’ hard work in rearing a crazy, spontaneous, headstrong oaf.

Happy Birthday to you, Mama and Papa. You guys are great! I hope to make you proud! I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.

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2 Comments
  1. -stalker- permalink

    Belated happy birthday Druuuuuu! 😀

    • I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for a party, I can tell you I don’t have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of quips, quips I have acquired over a very long career. Quips that make me a joy for people like you. If you introduce yourself now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will thank you.

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