Forever 35
Another birthday is fast approaching. I’m trying to cushion the impact by pre-empting any of my friends from arranging a surprise party. Today as I checked my calendar and realized that I would be pretty booked much of that week and the next few weeks with my parent’s visit so I had emailed everyone in the guise of coordinating for a joint birthday celebration for Jorge (4th) and Kristine (16th) and I.
I think I’m going anti-birthday this year. On all my egroup calendars I have deleted the reminders to my birthday. I figure if people don’t remember and I don’t get greeted then maybe I’ll not age another year in 2004. The sweet Italian friend has mailed me my gift already and hopefully, it’ll reach me in time. I know what it is anyways, since I had asked for it – a baseball cap from the Athens Olympics where he visited last weekend (despite nearly dying from a Macedonian dental surgery).
I can still remember when my birthday was such a big thing and was something to look forward to. Until I was probably in high school, I had a yearly celebration in one form or another. Birthday parties at home when I was growing up when my mom prepared all the food where I’m sure would have included either pancit or spaghetti – long noodles for long life. Then later on, to just give me money to celebrate with my friends at a venue of our own choosing. I remember most was that my dad always had a special gift for me. It was as though raising me and spending for my party wasn’t enough, I think it was every year that he had something for me – a watch, a bracelet, a ring or something to mark the occasion.
When I was already working and developed more mature romantic relationships (yeah, if there is such a thing) I remember being surprised with violins and a birthday cake on what was planned to be a quiet dinner. Last year I had a surprise birthday party which leaked back to me a week before but it had been fun just the same, sipping apple martini and sharing slices of pizza.
As the calendar shreds pages and years and I get older, I become more and more hesitant to celebrate. What is there to celebrate anyway? Things are pretty much the same way as it had been since last year. A few more poundage perhaps but that is certainly no reason to celebrate. The past year of my life would probably account for the most un-eventful in my lifetime. Though I have shifted jobs (same organization, new department and new location) the impact isn’t so life-changing or mind-altering; a boyfriend who is almost virtual; a Manhattan apartment that I hardly enjoy since I’m out all the time – even the weekends. I have spent so much money on traveling this year I barely have any savings.
Why do people celebrate birthdays anyway? It’s the day you are born so what’s the big deal? Do we celebrate because we succeeded to survive another year? So what’s the logic why some people still commemorate a dead person’s birthday? Pretty much in the same manner that wedding anniversaries are celebrated. Why? Do people celebrate their tenacity to have lasted another year with their spouse? Isn't that a sad sad thing? Or is it just a reason to wax sentimental and earn a gift at the same time? Or to pick a fight if the other forgets to remember the date. IT IS JUST A DATE!
I’m all for getting older and wiser (which still doubts me if I have) but at this stage I think I’ve ran out of reasons to celebrate because I’ve become more perplexed about the rituals of life and living. I am sure it has something to do with processing my thoughts about what I want my life to be about. Is it just going to be this, what I had been doing all my life? Is it always going to be about other people and how they influence my life. I am certain of one thing: I want to break away from the norms of what I have created and gotten used to. I would like to shape my life to be what I think I would want it to be when I am old.
Certainly and surely I would like to settle down. Commitment-phobic as I may always seem to sound, deep inside I fear growing old by myself. I would like to have someone there with me in the sunset of my years and preferably one who had been there a while with whom I can reminisce while sitting out on the balcony of our home looking over a lake or the sea on moonlit nights. It is a dream and it requires a reconditioning of my current mindset. For a long time I have thought about my future and assumed that growing old alone isn't so bad. I have had many insights into the married life of my friends and more and more it has cemented my opinion that no man is worth marrying.
On the other hand, I have also witnessed the life of an aunt who has chosen not to be in a relationship and to grew old by herself. It may not be for her but as an outsider looking in, I found a very empty, sad and alarming picture. Something I now fear I would fate myself into if I continued to set high standards and expected too much. Maybe relationships require a compromise. Maybe I'm at that stage when I can settle for mediocre rather than none. I still need to reflect on those thoughts. Frankly I think it is a pathetic reason to marry. But to have found a friend who loves me, tolerates me and who I can love back and tolerate I guess is a blessing enough that I have continued to overlook.
I look around me and realize that I still haven't reached that stage when I can think of myself as one who has lived life and earned its lessons. I am, however more accepting of the fact that life planning must begin now for the years that lie ahead of me and that involves a lot of changes, a lot of breaking away from the strings that had held me off.
I will still laugh as loud as I can, skip and hop when I am happy, charge through life with passion and acknowledge that tears cleanses the soul when so required. I will look at the mirror and stop comparing myself with everyone and know that I am my own person, unique and endearing to the ones who matter regardless of my faults and misgivings.
Another birthday and I'm aware it is coming. I have accepted the fact that I am not getting any younger but I still refuse to celebrate it because I will forever remain 35 as long as I can.
Did you think this entry was going to change anything? Ahhhh, you still don't know me well enough.
I think I’m going anti-birthday this year. On all my egroup calendars I have deleted the reminders to my birthday. I figure if people don’t remember and I don’t get greeted then maybe I’ll not age another year in 2004. The sweet Italian friend has mailed me my gift already and hopefully, it’ll reach me in time. I know what it is anyways, since I had asked for it – a baseball cap from the Athens Olympics where he visited last weekend (despite nearly dying from a Macedonian dental surgery).
I can still remember when my birthday was such a big thing and was something to look forward to. Until I was probably in high school, I had a yearly celebration in one form or another. Birthday parties at home when I was growing up when my mom prepared all the food where I’m sure would have included either pancit or spaghetti – long noodles for long life. Then later on, to just give me money to celebrate with my friends at a venue of our own choosing. I remember most was that my dad always had a special gift for me. It was as though raising me and spending for my party wasn’t enough, I think it was every year that he had something for me – a watch, a bracelet, a ring or something to mark the occasion.
When I was already working and developed more mature romantic relationships (yeah, if there is such a thing) I remember being surprised with violins and a birthday cake on what was planned to be a quiet dinner. Last year I had a surprise birthday party which leaked back to me a week before but it had been fun just the same, sipping apple martini and sharing slices of pizza.
As the calendar shreds pages and years and I get older, I become more and more hesitant to celebrate. What is there to celebrate anyway? Things are pretty much the same way as it had been since last year. A few more poundage perhaps but that is certainly no reason to celebrate. The past year of my life would probably account for the most un-eventful in my lifetime. Though I have shifted jobs (same organization, new department and new location) the impact isn’t so life-changing or mind-altering; a boyfriend who is almost virtual; a Manhattan apartment that I hardly enjoy since I’m out all the time – even the weekends. I have spent so much money on traveling this year I barely have any savings.
Why do people celebrate birthdays anyway? It’s the day you are born so what’s the big deal? Do we celebrate because we succeeded to survive another year? So what’s the logic why some people still commemorate a dead person’s birthday? Pretty much in the same manner that wedding anniversaries are celebrated. Why? Do people celebrate their tenacity to have lasted another year with their spouse? Isn't that a sad sad thing? Or is it just a reason to wax sentimental and earn a gift at the same time? Or to pick a fight if the other forgets to remember the date. IT IS JUST A DATE!
I’m all for getting older and wiser (which still doubts me if I have) but at this stage I think I’ve ran out of reasons to celebrate because I’ve become more perplexed about the rituals of life and living. I am sure it has something to do with processing my thoughts about what I want my life to be about. Is it just going to be this, what I had been doing all my life? Is it always going to be about other people and how they influence my life. I am certain of one thing: I want to break away from the norms of what I have created and gotten used to. I would like to shape my life to be what I think I would want it to be when I am old.
Certainly and surely I would like to settle down. Commitment-phobic as I may always seem to sound, deep inside I fear growing old by myself. I would like to have someone there with me in the sunset of my years and preferably one who had been there a while with whom I can reminisce while sitting out on the balcony of our home looking over a lake or the sea on moonlit nights. It is a dream and it requires a reconditioning of my current mindset. For a long time I have thought about my future and assumed that growing old alone isn't so bad. I have had many insights into the married life of my friends and more and more it has cemented my opinion that no man is worth marrying.
On the other hand, I have also witnessed the life of an aunt who has chosen not to be in a relationship and to grew old by herself. It may not be for her but as an outsider looking in, I found a very empty, sad and alarming picture. Something I now fear I would fate myself into if I continued to set high standards and expected too much. Maybe relationships require a compromise. Maybe I'm at that stage when I can settle for mediocre rather than none. I still need to reflect on those thoughts. Frankly I think it is a pathetic reason to marry. But to have found a friend who loves me, tolerates me and who I can love back and tolerate I guess is a blessing enough that I have continued to overlook.
I look around me and realize that I still haven't reached that stage when I can think of myself as one who has lived life and earned its lessons. I am, however more accepting of the fact that life planning must begin now for the years that lie ahead of me and that involves a lot of changes, a lot of breaking away from the strings that had held me off.
I will still laugh as loud as I can, skip and hop when I am happy, charge through life with passion and acknowledge that tears cleanses the soul when so required. I will look at the mirror and stop comparing myself with everyone and know that I am my own person, unique and endearing to the ones who matter regardless of my faults and misgivings.
Another birthday and I'm aware it is coming. I have accepted the fact that I am not getting any younger but I still refuse to celebrate it because I will forever remain 35 as long as I can.
Did you think this entry was going to change anything? Ahhhh, you still don't know me well enough.