So we were at the Christian Bautista concert last
Thursday, July 10, as part of my three-day birthday celebration and all
I can say is he was awesome! He sings very well but his performance last Thursday was one for the books. When he did “Hands to Heaven”, I couldn’t help but break down and cry. I was bawling so hard and loud that he actually stopped singing and came over to console me. Later, we made love. It was magical.
…
Well, actually none of that happened, but I’m sure as hell I got your attention! Here is what actually happened last July 10.
For the first time in my generally pathetic life, I celebrated my 30th birthday with me having a job! You might think “ho-hum, big deal!” and you know what, you are absolutely right! It was a big deal for me. And it feels great! They said life starts at 30 and I guess it’s true. (Actually that’s “Life starts at 40” but bear with me here. I’m nursing a hangover and it’s my birthday today.) I
don’t know if I should be happy or sad with me being 30 but with the
rate I’m going now I feel so alive at 30, whatever that means. Suddenly I felt like Jesus Christ as JC started his ministry when he’s in his 30s. I’m not really sure though as I’m not a priest; I
barely even go to church and when I did go to church you best believe
there’s some kind of Christian holiday or something where you’d feel
you’re going to hell a little bit more faster if you don’t attend a
mass – you know – the it’s-their-way-or-the-highway some sort of
thing/holiday (think Christmas, New Year, Holy Week, etc). But
let’s not talk about churches here in this here blog because the only
time I speak about churches here is when I’m telling the joke “As it
turns out, it was a good thing the Japs bombed the shit out of Pearl
Harbor otherwise America wouldn’t have joined World War II. You know what could have happened if they didn’t? The Nazi regime would have been invincible! Is that what we want, an invincible Nazi? Running around raping your churches and burning your women?” Or is it the other way around? Whatever. I got it all mixed up. But I digress…
So
anyway, two weeks before my birthday I told Rose that I’m planning to
throw a little shindig at the house; there’ll be food, booze, videoke,
more food, and booze, and videoke – the whole nine yards – and I’ll
only invite people that are close to me. Without any hesitation, she gave me the green light, gave me her credit card and said “here, go nuts!”
(I’d like to leave that last paragraph as is and let you think that that last part is not true but that will be a gross overestimation of your abilities thus this note!)
Like
a nervous bride-to-be, I meticulously sorted out my “real” friends that
I’m planning to invite on this special occasion from my phonebook and
as the days go by, it eventually become apparent to me that I don’t
have that many friends than I expect myself to have! I can literally count them on my fingers. Even
if I’m not really that close to them and knowing full-heartedly that
they could not come due to conflicts in our schedules and a general
lack of interest with anything related to me, and even if it’s way off
the mark of my theme to just invite the people that are really close to
me, I still invited all of my Filipino coworkers just because they’re
coworkers and I’ve had a little more than the standard pleasantries at
the pantry with some of them so I felt the need to invite them. I’ll cut to the chase that as expected, none of them came.
July 10th,
I managed to call all of my “friends” to remind them to come over and
bear witness to my puny little “success” (if you can even call it that
– I mean, can you call it “success” when for only the first time in 30
fucking years, you’re celebrating your birthday with you “just so
happened” to have a job and thus, for the first time in 30 fucking
years I’m throwing a birthday party? Life starts at 30. Indeed.), and surprisingly they all said they’re coming. Pumped up, I had a feeling my birthday is going to be a blast I can even taste it!
…
Well, I’ll cut to the chase again to say that while it wasn’t a blast, it was not entirely disappointing. Yes, there are people who couldn’t make it but at least there are other people who could and that’s fair enough. It
was nothing short of getting an email from some random asswipe telling
you you’ve won some shitty-ass lottery (even if you’re not joining any)
and asking you to click a link. Elated, you happily clicked on that link but were taken to see this famous video on Youtube:
Only then you realized you just got rick-rolled.
[In
a related story, the painful thing is Rick Astley is thinking his
career is ready for a comeback because of how (in)famous this video
have become. He became an internet phenom alongside Chuck Norris, Vin Diesel, Mr. T, etc. for dancing like a douchebag in a music video. Not too shabby.]
While
it wasn’t as fun as I wanted it to, at least it wasn’t even in the same
vicinity as my birthday celebration (of some sort) 2 years ago when
even if there aren’t so many visitors who came, we still ran out of
booze because I was little short of cash (read: broke as fuck) that
time so the party ended up so abruptly but since I still wanted to have
fun, I ended up sitting at a park like a motherfucking bum, throwing
rocks at passersby and screaming expletives at cooing pigeons. Also, silently singing “Kung natapos ko ang aking pagaaral…” in between sobs – definitely not one of my finest moments.
I
want to name those who couldn’t come but couldn’t care less to call me
in advance but I don’t feel the need to resort to that kind of thing
anymore. I mean, why will I waste my time and energy thinking about the things I don’t have while overlooking the things that I do have?
Shit, am I passing some kind of rite here? I’ve
said this in this here blog a gazillion times already that there are
only 3 things in life that I love doing: watching porn, jerk off while
watching porn, and holding grudges. Especially, holding grudges! Am I ready to ditch that out just because I’m 30? With how I wrote that last paragraph it seems that I am, but I don’t think so. And please let’s not jump into wild conclusions that this is what they call “maturity”. That “acting your age” is my rite of passage. Please. For one, the word “maturity” is the word I’ve grown to hate. They’ve been telling me to mature all my life that it even became counterproductive. I’m still that little boy who mama sends chocolate to but when teased “Marvin doesn’t want to eat chocolate! Do you want to chocolates, Marvin?” ends up not eating his chocolates no more even if it kills him to not eat his share. Shove it up my ass and I’ll just shit it back out! That’s my point. At some point in our lives we decide it’s now time to stop being retarded and I think I’m at that stage now. And besides, I’m just not going to name them; I didn’t say I won’t hold grudges on them. I didn’t say I ain’t mad! Don’t flatter yourselves too much.
Life starts at 30. And I’m not fucking around this time.
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