Late B-Day Post
I wrote this yesterday - my obligatory birthday post - at home on my creaky old IBM laptop.
Date: 16/12/07
'Happy birthday to everyone born yesterday, and good wishes and so frth for the coming years.'
"I turned 20 today.
Completion of the 2nd round - here we go round 3!
They say your brain cells stops proliferating and start dying when you reach 20-21 years of age.
The best years of your life and all that bullshit.
__
*Smirk*
Ah, it's been ages. I've been hanging around in this world for too long already, and hopefully I'll still be around long enough to be well remembered.
My day always begins at around 5 am, i.e. just before the crack of bloody dawn. Today began especially foggy and cold, the sun shooting pink and amber Star Wars rays through the milky air. I grinned out at the empty yard when I realised that this horribly cold day REALLY was my birthday. MY day.
You know the manic-happy smile that wobbles on and off your face on a day you feel real good? I mean, I didn't feel particularly happy, more like 'today is gonna be a decent day'.
Despite the fact that I had a pharmacology test on the same day. I cut my first period so I could study, but couldn't drag up the energy to read a damn line.
I tried to cram on the bus towards Uni, but couldn't pull it off, so I just mentally threw out a prayer to God to make the test easy (which it was in an odd sort of way). Spent the ride staring out the window, listening to a song and wiggling my fingers in time to the beat (preventing frostbite at the same time).
When I got to class, gloom hung thickly in the air. I looked around at the reddened eyes of the 4 girls in the front row, and asked what was the matter. 'Has someone died?' I wasn't being amusing or flip at all - they looked exactly like someone had died (which was actually the case).
Siham's uncle had been involved in a car crash, and died (God rest his soul). He was the mayor of the port town, Berbera, or something like that, and he was leading a recycling rally when the car he was in overturned or something. Poor guy.
I gave her a hug, paid my respects and didn't bother with inanities like 'Don't worry, he's in a better place' or 'You'll feel better soon'. I like to think I'm just a bit more sensitive than that.
I told them about my aunt and uncle dying in the same year, and said she was lucky to be in the same country and be able to go to the wake. That was my idea of comforting the bereaved. *Shake of the head*
I nodded my head as she spoke about his work and so on, then I left them after what I judged to be the appropriate amount of time. I didn't feel like getting weepy, and I hated feeling so helpless. What could I do for her anyway? Absolutely nothing. We're programmed to forget about death, to continue on as though life were eternal. Not many people are lucky enough or healthy enough to prepare for their end, and most of the people I know seem to suffer sudden deaths. I read in a book somewhere that all human life, our way of life, is supported by the assumption that tomorrow will follow today and life as we know it will continue. It's too terrifying to think of it any other way.
Well…
Anyway, I went to the big assembly hall on campus to study with Bushra. I wasn't as nattery as usual, and she asked me what was wrong. I told her Siham's uncle the mayor had passed away.
'Anyone would be deflated.'
She said people had been calling her up all last night and condoling her over the mayor's death (the old mayor used to be HER uncle; what're the odds?). I told her to be glad her high school friends even remembered that about her - most people run screaming from their high school as soon as they graduate.
Muna joined us later, and we staggered through the campus, B and me bitching about our test and Muna moping along behind us. It was the weather, I suppose (fog = melancholy?) but our spirits picked up a bit after we fed the hairy hunger monsters in our stomachs.
Even the sun brightened up a bit.
For some stupid subconscious reason, I kept singing:
'Mix yo milk with my Coco Puffs,
milky, milky Coco,
mix yo milk with my Coco Puffs,
milky, milky RIIIGHT!' (Song: BEP - 'My Hump'. I didn't name it.)
We all went into fits of laughter as each one of us imagined certain guys we knew rolling around on the floor in manly agony while their balls froze off. Heheh, brutal. >X-D
It really was unusually cold, and I added that since it was my birthday, this was a cosmic tradition. I mean, I know its winter and all, but this day is always extra cold. It's happened so many times that it can't be a coincidence. I was born while the snow cannonballed Oslo in the mother of all blizzards, and this was the world's way of commemorating that day.
'Oh, right, it's your birthday today!' they burst out in unison - now that I think about it, it sounded too sincere and therefore kinda fake. I endured the nudges and the shoulder-squeezing and apologetic half-hugs with a screensaver smile on my face and assured them it was okay.
I'm embarrassed to say that I had been EXPECTING them to forget, despite their telling me they would bring me presents and that I was 'their Dee'.
Years of experience, you know. Or maybe I'm being ungrateful for those other few.
I had forgotten all about it by the time we dragged our asses to the cafeteria and back, although I doubled back for a trip to the toilet. I had no idea they were planning a surprise for me, and when I came back, I noticed something sticking conspicuously out of my bag.
'Where's Muna?'
'She's gone to her class. She said to wait for her when she came out.'
I eyeballed the suspicious object poking out of my bag. 'What's-?' I said, and Bushra slapped my hand away before I could finish the question.
I figured I knew what was in the bag, but decided to stall.
Her resolve broke before mine, and she said: 'Okay, open it.'
'What? You sure?'
'Uh-huh.'
'No… I better not.
'OPEN IT!'
'You sure?'
'YES!'
The mystery prize was a beautiful blue and grey scarf with a 'Happy B-Day!' note from Muna pinned to it. One of my faults is that I can't hide what I'm feeling, and a crazy grin split my face like a melon. I was beyond pleased, beyond touched - and I was aware that Bushra's eyes were on me.
I turned to her, beaming like a 5000 W gaudy neon light, and said: 'Oh my God, thank you guys.'
She said her present was mouldering at home, and she'd forgotten to bring it with her on account of the test, but I assured her that it didn't matter whether she forgot it or not - what counted was the fact that they remembered.
Being remembered is much more important than the gift itself.
'I'd maul you,' I said to her when the 5000 W grin lowered itself to 2500 W, 'but we're in a public place and I don't want to scar you for life. You know I love you guys though.'
I got a few beams back.
I asked her if they had been planning this last night, and she laughed that 'How'd you figure it out?' laugh, the one that's two notches below 'CRAP - you caught me!'
I couldn't resist squashing her into a bear hug though, and Muna too, just as she came out of her lesson. There was a slightly worried look in her eyes, and my grin cranked itself up to 6000 W again. I said thanks, and then I bitched about how 'thanks' fell so much short of what I really meant, and she was like 'you like it?' and I told her that I really did, and more than that, it was the fact that she remembered that got me.
Isn't that what a birthday present really means? 'We remember the day you were born and are thankful you're here because you matter to us'. That's what you're saying when you give someone a gift.
So we looked at each other, the way that girls who're really friends do - the long, searching look that asks and at the same time confirms why we're friends. They're not kidding when they say that your pals indicate what kind of person you are.
Which means… I must be a good person, then, and not as deficient as I seem to think, if I'm lucky enough to have friends like these.
Anyway, the rest of the day passed in a hyperactive whirl. We got in the same bus to town and gossiped all the way there about everybody we knew. I wondered aloud (with a most 3vil grin plastered all over my face) which boys would bring me a present if I'd announced that today was my birthday.
I might as well have asked them to make fun of me.
'Oh, oh, people'd be running to town on foot just to buy you something special,' Muna said, nudge-nudge wink-wink, 'there'd be an unholy stampede.'
'Some people we know would be running people over WITH HIS CAR if he knew,' cried Bushra, and I suffered more pokes and prods.
I could swear there was molten lava under my skin, my face was so hot. Well, I supposed, since I dished it out most of the time, I guess it was time I learnt to take it, too. I was pleasantly embarrassed.
'Come on,' I protest, the very picture of modesty, 'I'm not that popular.'
'Hah, if only you knew!'
I grabbed Muna's phone (technically her brother, who's a real cutie too… *shifty looks*) and proceeded to take pictures of myself. None of them came out right, and people kept turning towards us to see what was making that noise.
'Relax,' I told the nosy masses, 'I ain't takin' pictures of you.'
The girls slapped me for being so rude, but I was feeling too good to give a shit.
Bushra went home, despite our invitation to come window-shopping. Jut then, it began to rain. Rain is always a good sign, I think, although this was the kind of cold rain that's halfway to being snow, the kind that always blows into your face instead of the other way. That didn't matter, though - it was the first rain in at least 3 weeks of drought, and even though Muna too went home because she was freezing (she wasn't exactly dressed for the weather - ^__^o), it had been an overall good day.
Now it's eight in the evening, and I have piles of things to study and memorise before February, when the finals for this semester are scheduled. I want to call Muna and talk about boys (every girl's favourite subject - X-D), write a few more pages of my story, listen to music, eat, drink and be merry and think about the present I'm getting tomorrow.
So, I think this is one of the better birthday posts my journal has seen. No doom and only just a tad of gloom in it, heheh. I'm not lying when I say that I'm really looking forward to what this year is going to be like. Last year was not so bad, but I'm glad the hormone-overdose terrible teens are finally over.
Now that I'm twenty, the elderly hags will be at me to get married, but I shall ignore! I'm not here to live my life according to their creaky old rules, and I don't want to be the pregnant med-student that everybody gossips about.
The last two decades I've been around have been complete messes, but I promise I'll make these next few years different.
I'll make them count.
Stats: I'm 20 yrs of age, 58-ish kg and 5'6'' tall, grimly optimistic and not so insecure or lonely anymore.
Becoming a woman."
-Sakin
Date: 16/12/07
'Happy birthday to everyone born yesterday, and good wishes and so frth for the coming years.'
"I turned 20 today.
Completion of the 2nd round - here we go round 3!
They say your brain cells stops proliferating and start dying when you reach 20-21 years of age.
The best years of your life and all that bullshit.
__
*Smirk*
Ah, it's been ages. I've been hanging around in this world for too long already, and hopefully I'll still be around long enough to be well remembered.
My day always begins at around 5 am, i.e. just before the crack of bloody dawn. Today began especially foggy and cold, the sun shooting pink and amber Star Wars rays through the milky air. I grinned out at the empty yard when I realised that this horribly cold day REALLY was my birthday. MY day.
You know the manic-happy smile that wobbles on and off your face on a day you feel real good? I mean, I didn't feel particularly happy, more like 'today is gonna be a decent day'.
Despite the fact that I had a pharmacology test on the same day. I cut my first period so I could study, but couldn't drag up the energy to read a damn line.
I tried to cram on the bus towards Uni, but couldn't pull it off, so I just mentally threw out a prayer to God to make the test easy (which it was in an odd sort of way). Spent the ride staring out the window, listening to a song and wiggling my fingers in time to the beat (preventing frostbite at the same time).
When I got to class, gloom hung thickly in the air. I looked around at the reddened eyes of the 4 girls in the front row, and asked what was the matter. 'Has someone died?' I wasn't being amusing or flip at all - they looked exactly like someone had died (which was actually the case).
Siham's uncle had been involved in a car crash, and died (God rest his soul). He was the mayor of the port town, Berbera, or something like that, and he was leading a recycling rally when the car he was in overturned or something. Poor guy.
I gave her a hug, paid my respects and didn't bother with inanities like 'Don't worry, he's in a better place' or 'You'll feel better soon'. I like to think I'm just a bit more sensitive than that.
I told them about my aunt and uncle dying in the same year, and said she was lucky to be in the same country and be able to go to the wake. That was my idea of comforting the bereaved. *Shake of the head*
I nodded my head as she spoke about his work and so on, then I left them after what I judged to be the appropriate amount of time. I didn't feel like getting weepy, and I hated feeling so helpless. What could I do for her anyway? Absolutely nothing. We're programmed to forget about death, to continue on as though life were eternal. Not many people are lucky enough or healthy enough to prepare for their end, and most of the people I know seem to suffer sudden deaths. I read in a book somewhere that all human life, our way of life, is supported by the assumption that tomorrow will follow today and life as we know it will continue. It's too terrifying to think of it any other way.
Well…
Anyway, I went to the big assembly hall on campus to study with Bushra. I wasn't as nattery as usual, and she asked me what was wrong. I told her Siham's uncle the mayor had passed away.
'Anyone would be deflated.'
She said people had been calling her up all last night and condoling her over the mayor's death (the old mayor used to be HER uncle; what're the odds?). I told her to be glad her high school friends even remembered that about her - most people run screaming from their high school as soon as they graduate.
Muna joined us later, and we staggered through the campus, B and me bitching about our test and Muna moping along behind us. It was the weather, I suppose (fog = melancholy?) but our spirits picked up a bit after we fed the hairy hunger monsters in our stomachs.
Even the sun brightened up a bit.
For some stupid subconscious reason, I kept singing:
'Mix yo milk with my Coco Puffs,
milky, milky Coco,
mix yo milk with my Coco Puffs,
milky, milky RIIIGHT!' (Song: BEP - 'My Hump'. I didn't name it.)
We all went into fits of laughter as each one of us imagined certain guys we knew rolling around on the floor in manly agony while their balls froze off. Heheh, brutal. >X-D
It really was unusually cold, and I added that since it was my birthday, this was a cosmic tradition. I mean, I know its winter and all, but this day is always extra cold. It's happened so many times that it can't be a coincidence. I was born while the snow cannonballed Oslo in the mother of all blizzards, and this was the world's way of commemorating that day.
'Oh, right, it's your birthday today!' they burst out in unison - now that I think about it, it sounded too sincere and therefore kinda fake. I endured the nudges and the shoulder-squeezing and apologetic half-hugs with a screensaver smile on my face and assured them it was okay.
I'm embarrassed to say that I had been EXPECTING them to forget, despite their telling me they would bring me presents and that I was 'their Dee'.
Years of experience, you know. Or maybe I'm being ungrateful for those other few.
I had forgotten all about it by the time we dragged our asses to the cafeteria and back, although I doubled back for a trip to the toilet. I had no idea they were planning a surprise for me, and when I came back, I noticed something sticking conspicuously out of my bag.
'Where's Muna?'
'She's gone to her class. She said to wait for her when she came out.'
I eyeballed the suspicious object poking out of my bag. 'What's-?' I said, and Bushra slapped my hand away before I could finish the question.
I figured I knew what was in the bag, but decided to stall.
Her resolve broke before mine, and she said: 'Okay, open it.'
'What? You sure?'
'Uh-huh.'
'No… I better not.
'OPEN IT!'
'You sure?'
'YES!'
The mystery prize was a beautiful blue and grey scarf with a 'Happy B-Day!' note from Muna pinned to it. One of my faults is that I can't hide what I'm feeling, and a crazy grin split my face like a melon. I was beyond pleased, beyond touched - and I was aware that Bushra's eyes were on me.
I turned to her, beaming like a 5000 W gaudy neon light, and said: 'Oh my God, thank you guys.'
She said her present was mouldering at home, and she'd forgotten to bring it with her on account of the test, but I assured her that it didn't matter whether she forgot it or not - what counted was the fact that they remembered.
Being remembered is much more important than the gift itself.
'I'd maul you,' I said to her when the 5000 W grin lowered itself to 2500 W, 'but we're in a public place and I don't want to scar you for life. You know I love you guys though.'
I got a few beams back.
I asked her if they had been planning this last night, and she laughed that 'How'd you figure it out?' laugh, the one that's two notches below 'CRAP - you caught me!'
I couldn't resist squashing her into a bear hug though, and Muna too, just as she came out of her lesson. There was a slightly worried look in her eyes, and my grin cranked itself up to 6000 W again. I said thanks, and then I bitched about how 'thanks' fell so much short of what I really meant, and she was like 'you like it?' and I told her that I really did, and more than that, it was the fact that she remembered that got me.
Isn't that what a birthday present really means? 'We remember the day you were born and are thankful you're here because you matter to us'. That's what you're saying when you give someone a gift.
So we looked at each other, the way that girls who're really friends do - the long, searching look that asks and at the same time confirms why we're friends. They're not kidding when they say that your pals indicate what kind of person you are.
Which means… I must be a good person, then, and not as deficient as I seem to think, if I'm lucky enough to have friends like these.
Anyway, the rest of the day passed in a hyperactive whirl. We got in the same bus to town and gossiped all the way there about everybody we knew. I wondered aloud (with a most 3vil grin plastered all over my face) which boys would bring me a present if I'd announced that today was my birthday.
I might as well have asked them to make fun of me.
'Oh, oh, people'd be running to town on foot just to buy you something special,' Muna said, nudge-nudge wink-wink, 'there'd be an unholy stampede.'
'Some people we know would be running people over WITH HIS CAR if he knew,' cried Bushra, and I suffered more pokes and prods.
I could swear there was molten lava under my skin, my face was so hot. Well, I supposed, since I dished it out most of the time, I guess it was time I learnt to take it, too. I was pleasantly embarrassed.
'Come on,' I protest, the very picture of modesty, 'I'm not that popular.'
'Hah, if only you knew!'
I grabbed Muna's phone (technically her brother, who's a real cutie too… *shifty looks*) and proceeded to take pictures of myself. None of them came out right, and people kept turning towards us to see what was making that noise.
'Relax,' I told the nosy masses, 'I ain't takin' pictures of you.'
The girls slapped me for being so rude, but I was feeling too good to give a shit.
Bushra went home, despite our invitation to come window-shopping. Jut then, it began to rain. Rain is always a good sign, I think, although this was the kind of cold rain that's halfway to being snow, the kind that always blows into your face instead of the other way. That didn't matter, though - it was the first rain in at least 3 weeks of drought, and even though Muna too went home because she was freezing (she wasn't exactly dressed for the weather - ^__^o), it had been an overall good day.
Now it's eight in the evening, and I have piles of things to study and memorise before February, when the finals for this semester are scheduled. I want to call Muna and talk about boys (every girl's favourite subject - X-D), write a few more pages of my story, listen to music, eat, drink and be merry and think about the present I'm getting tomorrow.
So, I think this is one of the better birthday posts my journal has seen. No doom and only just a tad of gloom in it, heheh. I'm not lying when I say that I'm really looking forward to what this year is going to be like. Last year was not so bad, but I'm glad the hormone-overdose terrible teens are finally over.
Now that I'm twenty, the elderly hags will be at me to get married, but I shall ignore! I'm not here to live my life according to their creaky old rules, and I don't want to be the pregnant med-student that everybody gossips about.
The last two decades I've been around have been complete messes, but I promise I'll make these next few years different.
I'll make them count.
Stats: I'm 20 yrs of age, 58-ish kg and 5'6'' tall, grimly optimistic and not so insecure or lonely anymore.
Becoming a woman."
-Sakin