Tuesday, February 07, 2006


I spent my fourth birthday in a sleazy yellow tube dress with black fishnets. On my seventh, I wore a nice, pink dress, knee-high socks, black leather shoes and long, curly hair. I gave everyone who so ardently desired a picture with me a big and stupid smile. And I mean stupid. The only classmate of mine who attended the party was Regine. After all, she was the only one I invited.
On my ninth year of birth, Mame gave me the first pocketbook I’ve ever read. It was called The Afternoon of the Elves, and I still have the ancient thing. It was the book that set me off into reading and made me the creature that I am today. Papa, I remember Papa giving me a Sailormoon figurine. Uh. Pa, I was nine. I was into Britney, Backstreet, and Titanic. Hello.
The rest of the birthdays? I don’t remember them a lot anymore, if at all. Birthdays never meant a lot to me. So yeah, I’m one planetary revolution away from the sun since last time, but besides that, I feel the same. I always feel awkward when people greet me ‘happy birthday’ because I don’t know what to say--- thank you, God bless, best wishes, what? It was no big deal for me.
I was not happy. Nor was I sad.

So I’m eighteen. Wow. A few days from today eighteen years ago, Mame fell from a flight of stairs and her water broke. I was born by Caesarian section at approximately 11 am, a healthy female of the Homo sapiens. Pinaglihi ako sa butong pakwan na itim na labis na pinagsisihan ng nanay ko. After kilos of Nivea during high school, though, the wrongs have been set to rights. More or less.
Well, eighteen years. I survived the great trials of my generation, like teenage pop idols, boy bands, and MTV. Like lethargy, boredom, and lack of motivation. Its eighteen years of learning how to cross streets, how to order from McDonald’s, how to never trust magazines which were never good for anyone’s self-esteem (unless you’re on it). Eighteen years of survival in a world far from anyone’s ideal. There must be something to it.
After all, the law makes you legal at eighteen.

So what’s next? The next turning point should be about the time I graduate. How do I spend the next four years? How do I learn more? How do I grow? Man, I’m legal. I can get a job and pay my taxes. I can get a license and I can get drunk. I can go in gay bars and take Betch and Xela and April with me. None of which, of course, I intend or even have the slightest inclination to accomplish. Well, maybe a bit about the gay bar part. And that, what, job thing. Yeah.
Here I am then. I do know where I’m going but not about how to get there. Birthdays never meant a lot then, but this birthday means that only I am responsible everything I do from now on. Everything.
At least, I’m not wearing any sleazy yellow tube dress. Or fishnet stockings. Else, payment shall be uncomfortably dire.

salamat sa lahat ng nag-text na ka-Obzite (one love) at bumati sa eskwela (astig kayo!). Salamat sa regalo ni Cc, Betch, at Mishee. Salamat sa Nanay at Tatay ko, pati na rin sa magaling kong kapatid na ayaw akong peramin ng Stainless Longganisa ni Bob Ong. Salamat rin to Putong's (Coutre by a 'straight' male) for my outfit, Manoy Hairstylers (enjoy a 50% off boob job for every Rebond) for my make-up and Cc's Film World (Titino ang hitsura mo) for everything.


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