It's that time of year again, when I age a little more.
It's that time of year again, when I learn a snippet more.
It's that time of year again, when I mature a tad more.
It's that time of year again, when I appreciate a touch more.
It's that time of year again.
It's that time of year again, when I learn a snippet more.
It's that time of year again, when I mature a tad more.
It's that time of year again, when I appreciate a touch more.
It's that time of year again.
My birthday.
When I was younger, like any other child, I regarded birthdays as “the festival of the year”. I loved birthdays. It meant I could demand for presents from my parents. It meant cake and ice cream. It meant special treatment and my favourite food served for meals. I was a child and I was blissful.
Then I grew up.
Over the years, it seemed as though the value of my birthday, and birthdays in general, had diminished somewhat. I rarely received birthday presents from my friends as I progressed in high school, except for some gifts from a few best friends.
But on a lighter note ---- I guess to be fair --- God made my college days different as I received more gifts than I could ever wish for. I think I have developed some of the best friendships during that phase of my life. After I graduated from college and started working at People Support, I was fortunate enough to have been blessed with the opportunity to meet some wonderful souls --- people who made me feel special each year. My birthdays in People Support were awesome. My friends never fail to surprise me year after year after year.
But I’m not in People Support anymore. I am not in La Salle anymore. I don’t really expect much this year. I have prepared myself for the worst birthday ever. No presents, no cakes, no ice cream, no celebration. Don’t get me wrong though. I still expect to receive presents from my parents and brothers but only because they never missed to give me one every single year. I also have a handful of friends from outside the company whom I know will still surprise me with something unusual... those I look forward to. But other than that, I expected nothing else this year... not from the company I work for... not from my officemates.
If I was still the child I had been 15 years ago, I’d have thrown an emotional tantrum involving generous episodes of dramatic kicking and screaming and threats to jump out of the window. No birthday cake on such a glorious day? Blasphemy!
But I didn’t.
I realized it was because I simply stopped caring. There were a few consecutive years in the past, in which really horrible things happened on my birthday, or a few days before it. I spent my birthdays feeling miserable, wishing fervently that I had been blessed with a boring, ordinary day for my birthday instead. When you are put into situations which make you cry really badly all day, you actually don’t think about presents and celebrations. You’d give anything to be able to live a normal, routine day.
Which was exactly how I felt. It no longer mattered to me if nobody cared, if nobody remembered except my family and close friends. All I wanted was a normal, peaceful day and I’d be happy for another year.
No birthday cake? Not a problem, I’d just buy myself a slice of cake and eat it. No greetings? Well, who cares, they’re all busy people anyway, and it’s no different than wishing someone “good morning” every morning, except people only wish you “happy birthday” once a year.
My birthday was just a date to me, nothing more than a mechanical reminder that I had passed another milestone in life.
I was fine, and I was genuinely happy. I didn’t need anyone to remember, which was why I always tried to conceal my date of birth whenever anyone asked. I didn’t want people to make a fuss; I didn’t want them to go through any trouble just for me.
Today, Reich, Royce, Chester, Kei, Harlie, Reg, Tatty, LJ, Mac, AC, Pedz, Stlz, Bash, Wendell, Tyrone, Rowell, Mae, Pao, Russell, Vok, my whole Care Family, the entire Care FSS and the rest of my friends in management and support staff surprised me with a birthday cake when we were having dinner at the 31st floor pantry of PBCOM. Chester and I were singing “Just Once” --- part of the Customer Service week celebration --- when all of them showed up with a cake.
I stared at it for a while and the first thing I said was “Chester’s birthday?”
It was obviously not one of my more brilliant moments.
For the strangest reason I thought the cake was for my friend Chester who celebrated his birthday 6 days ago.
They all looked as though I had snorted green tea out of my nose.
“YOUR CAKE!”
Oh my. I honestly did not expect that. At that very moment I was looking at the most beautiful cake in the world, because it was a thoughtful gesture of sincerity and kindness in the spirit of friendship.
I have always suspected that I’ve grown up too quickly for my age, but today, when you guys went out of your way to get me a cake, when you had to relight the candle 10 thousand times because the air-conditioning kept on putting the flame out, when you guys took one million photos of me looking absolutely retarded, when you guys dictated how I should make my wish, when you made me remove the candle from the cake using my mouth, when we camwhored, when Chester had to slice the cake for me because I was such a noob at cutting cakes, when we shared the cake and laughed, when we had fun, I became a child again.
I was once again the child who loved and glorified birthdays. I was once again the little boy who squealed at the sight of cake. I was once again the kid who enjoyed birthdays.
Thank you for making my birthday meaningful again.
I love you guys.
When I was younger, like any other child, I regarded birthdays as “the festival of the year”. I loved birthdays. It meant I could demand for presents from my parents. It meant cake and ice cream. It meant special treatment and my favourite food served for meals. I was a child and I was blissful.
Then I grew up.
Over the years, it seemed as though the value of my birthday, and birthdays in general, had diminished somewhat. I rarely received birthday presents from my friends as I progressed in high school, except for some gifts from a few best friends.
But on a lighter note ---- I guess to be fair --- God made my college days different as I received more gifts than I could ever wish for. I think I have developed some of the best friendships during that phase of my life. After I graduated from college and started working at People Support, I was fortunate enough to have been blessed with the opportunity to meet some wonderful souls --- people who made me feel special each year. My birthdays in People Support were awesome. My friends never fail to surprise me year after year after year.
But I’m not in People Support anymore. I am not in La Salle anymore. I don’t really expect much this year. I have prepared myself for the worst birthday ever. No presents, no cakes, no ice cream, no celebration. Don’t get me wrong though. I still expect to receive presents from my parents and brothers but only because they never missed to give me one every single year. I also have a handful of friends from outside the company whom I know will still surprise me with something unusual... those I look forward to. But other than that, I expected nothing else this year... not from the company I work for... not from my officemates.
If I was still the child I had been 15 years ago, I’d have thrown an emotional tantrum involving generous episodes of dramatic kicking and screaming and threats to jump out of the window. No birthday cake on such a glorious day? Blasphemy!
But I didn’t.
I realized it was because I simply stopped caring. There were a few consecutive years in the past, in which really horrible things happened on my birthday, or a few days before it. I spent my birthdays feeling miserable, wishing fervently that I had been blessed with a boring, ordinary day for my birthday instead. When you are put into situations which make you cry really badly all day, you actually don’t think about presents and celebrations. You’d give anything to be able to live a normal, routine day.
Which was exactly how I felt. It no longer mattered to me if nobody cared, if nobody remembered except my family and close friends. All I wanted was a normal, peaceful day and I’d be happy for another year.
No birthday cake? Not a problem, I’d just buy myself a slice of cake and eat it. No greetings? Well, who cares, they’re all busy people anyway, and it’s no different than wishing someone “good morning” every morning, except people only wish you “happy birthday” once a year.
My birthday was just a date to me, nothing more than a mechanical reminder that I had passed another milestone in life.
I was fine, and I was genuinely happy. I didn’t need anyone to remember, which was why I always tried to conceal my date of birth whenever anyone asked. I didn’t want people to make a fuss; I didn’t want them to go through any trouble just for me.
Today, Reich, Royce, Chester, Kei, Harlie, Reg, Tatty, LJ, Mac, AC, Pedz, Stlz, Bash, Wendell, Tyrone, Rowell, Mae, Pao, Russell, Vok, my whole Care Family, the entire Care FSS and the rest of my friends in management and support staff surprised me with a birthday cake when we were having dinner at the 31st floor pantry of PBCOM. Chester and I were singing “Just Once” --- part of the Customer Service week celebration --- when all of them showed up with a cake.
I stared at it for a while and the first thing I said was “Chester’s birthday?”
It was obviously not one of my more brilliant moments.
For the strangest reason I thought the cake was for my friend Chester who celebrated his birthday 6 days ago.
They all looked as though I had snorted green tea out of my nose.
“YOUR CAKE!”
Oh my. I honestly did not expect that. At that very moment I was looking at the most beautiful cake in the world, because it was a thoughtful gesture of sincerity and kindness in the spirit of friendship.
I have always suspected that I’ve grown up too quickly for my age, but today, when you guys went out of your way to get me a cake, when you had to relight the candle 10 thousand times because the air-conditioning kept on putting the flame out, when you guys took one million photos of me looking absolutely retarded, when you guys dictated how I should make my wish, when you made me remove the candle from the cake using my mouth, when we camwhored, when Chester had to slice the cake for me because I was such a noob at cutting cakes, when we shared the cake and laughed, when we had fun, I became a child again.
I was once again the child who loved and glorified birthdays. I was once again the little boy who squealed at the sight of cake. I was once again the kid who enjoyed birthdays.
Thank you for making my birthday meaningful again.
I love you guys.
