Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The (Kinda) Big 2-0

Memories of my last birthday celebration can still be accessed with relative ease, as if it was only a year ago. A huge party was thrown to commemorate the last time I'd be celebrating a birthday in Singapore, and various uncles and aunts were all heralding the triumphant way I had escaped the clutches of the army and gotten myself a future in my very own birthplace. I was filled with an enthusiasm and optimism only the certifiably insane could have managed. "I'm a trailblazer!" Most likely, I was drunk. "I'm finally free to fly away and live the life I was always destined to - with countless lovers and a cellar full of wine." Now I'd like to invite you, dear reader, to jump forward in time to the present, to a day where I'm sitting here in bed (without any of the countless lovers in sight, I might add), stone cold sober, and writing to an imaginary audience, in hopes that someone out there would read this one day. Boy have I deviated from my goals. 

It sure is weird, celebrating - actually, we'd go with 'experiencing' - my birthday without my usual inner-circle of social-deviants. This is quite possibly the first time in my life where I did not receive a present on my birthday. I don't know if my parents were cheapos back when I was too much of an infant to know what a birthday is, but as far as I could remember, I'd always at least gotten something. I'm not being a Poshy Poshstine here, and I'm certainly not being resentful of the lack of presents. It's just that it has suddenly dawned on me the great fortune I've had in my life. There are literally millions out there who have not and will not ever receive any gift, birthday or not. Just growing up in my given circumstances, and now seeing how it's not something to be taken for granted, makes me feel exceedingly blessed. People don't have to do it for you - so be grateful when someone does. 

Honestly speaking, I thought I'd be hitched by now. I had envisioned my birthday with the perfect date, and how much less of a torture a birthday would be to get through because I was with an incomparable someone having the finest dinner and enjoying the most magnificent horse-carriage ride à la Will and Kate. Most unfortunately, my quests for a transcendent relationship have only culminated in hair-raisingly terrifying Vanessa Hudgens-esq scandals. Perhaps I got it so wrong because I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. For whatever reason, I believed I needed someone to lessen the impact of significant holidays and important dates. But I also realize now the danger of putting that much hope into one person, because what would you be left with when they decide to go? If everything I had was based on the supposed existence of that someone, how would I ever truly appreciate the innate survivor within me? 

Birthdays are celebrations of life, of the successful liberation from one's mother's womb - they're meant to be enjoyed, not tolerated. No matter where I physically am, I know I'm in the hearts and minds of those who truly love me. That in itself is cause enough for celebration.

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