quarternotes

Call me an emotional-pessimistic freak, but sometimes, I hate it when my birthday comes.

First, because I'm getting older... no use arguing about that.

Second, I tend to expect a lot from people around me.. yeah, pretty childish, huh?

Third, there's a need to feel something special... something magical... and in the end, I don't get this certain feeling, to fill the bottle of birthday wishes.

Since I left the school grounds, I haven't experienced the perfect birthday as an adult; or maybe it's not supposed to be perfect. Maybe, adding a few numbers means having been able to explore the realities of life; that life is not a bed of roses, or meals aren't always served with the finest spoons. Thus, I believe that "birthdays" are not for us. We're not supposed to be receiving gifts or any kind of special treatment. Why? Because when we were born, the world wasn't offered to us - WE were offered to the world. We are to make our contribution in sustaining life in our world, being free from foolishness, living righteous. We are to fulfill the role, and act accordingly to what we can actually do for others, especially our loved ones. A destiny to live for others; being MAN for others. It's quite a heavy thought, but we are indeed responsible for one another.

It's not my birthday until tomorrow. But it's nice to actually think about it before arriving in expectations and frustrations.

And for my birthday wish... well, I wish not for myself, but for the people I love and care about.

That's actually all I want for my upcoming birthday.

Free from work.

Free from senseless minds.

Free from childish acts.

and most importantly, Free from foolishness.

I don't exactly feel that my birthday's tomorrow already.

Another year to add numbers in my age.

Another year of maturity.

Another year full of lessons learned.

Tomorrow, after a good movie perhaps with Onch, I plan to bum around the mall with Apollo (yeah, I finally landed on a good name for my laptop). Maybe I can meet up with a few friends, if they can make it, and just hang.. chill for a day. Taking things lightly and slowly for a change.

My uneasy feeling of colds suddenly came to rest upon purchasing my newest toy... business partner, rather!

Finally, after a long wait, I decided to buy myself a laptop. It's like a reward for hard earned money (and I mean, HARD EARNED with all the sleepless nights!) and, it could be like a birthday gift to moi! I'm still getting used to the idea that I can carry as much as 120GB worth of files and applications in one bag, how convenient is that?!

Can't write much now... I'm too excited to discover new stuff with this baby!

Ah wait, still haven't got a name for it... hmmm?

I hate it.

Crap.

I really, really hate it...

I've been giving 50% effort to work.. and the other 50% trying to survive the simplest yet most irritating and most common virus: the common cold.

I can't function.

I can't think.

Hell, I can't focus even if my life depended on it.

Worst is I have deadlines and stuff and I can't afford to miss those crucial dates.

I hate being sick.

I've never felt so sick since.. well, the pox madness. My headache's worst than a hang over. My eyes are all teary. My nose has a life of its own. It's like a good day for soup - unfortunately, there's none at the moment. Yeah, soup is always welcome to those who are sick.

So why blog? Because it's disturbing. And this feeling is practically taking over my life. Oh, I can't wait to get well! Good Lord, heal me now!

I'm going to have a meeting tomorrow for the magazine. I just wish the very imagination of soup alone can make me feel better. *sighs and sniffs*

Just the other day, I looked for this book inside my drawer. It's still new - all shrink wrapped and, with a price tag. I actually bought it last year and swore to myself that I wouldn't open it unless I finish the current book I was reading back then... Well, obviously, it took SOME time; say a year? Until finally, I peeled its shrink wrap and neatly covered it with a plastic cover scrap from my brothers' stack. I got my usual stamp and marked the book mine.

I read the first few sentences of the Preface. Somehow, the excitement of getting in to another world faded within seconds. Was it the story? Was it the author? Was it how is was written? Or was it just me curling up, refusing to keep an open mind. A friend told me yesterday that to be creative, one should always allow himself or herself to expand his or her horizon... keep on pushing until one reaches the verge of insanity. For me it's the same principle. Getting lost in the world the author created. Falling in love with every word, every character, every emotion... allowing them to touch your own living character.

But this particular book? It's just not lighting up. I'm giving it a few pages more, say, the first three chapters? Should I abandon yet another lover? I've done it once, or twice maybe... I can do it again.

So after a year of anticipating to flip a page of this book, I ask myself... Was it worth the wait?