Some people wallow in their own sadness and they bathe in their own misery. They complain an absurd amount of times on how bad life is and they claim they want some love. But when love comes their way they don't want it anymore. They react as if it is nothing new and instead they toss it out and return to their sadness, their sad sad sad state of mind and neuroses. They say the "woe is me." I'm one of those pathetic people.
It's fifteen minutes until my 22nd birthday, or at least I think I will turn twenty two. According to the Chinese lunar calendar I am technically twenty two already, going onto twenty three which means I am old. But I am still young compared to age 25 which is one quarter of my humanity on earth (quote from Wong Kar Wai's Chungking Express). I don't usually celebrate my birthday. But this is not because I don't want to celebrate my birthday; it's more because no one celebrates my birthday with or for me. Ok, correction! My parents celebrate my birthday indefinitely; my mom always buys me birthday cakes both on January 11 or something (Chinese birthday) and on my identification birthday. She always buys cakes from Fay Da Bakery in Chinatown, the one with red ribbon around the icing on the side. The cake that has loot doo she calls it in the middle. It is fattening but I eat up all the whipped cream. It wasn't until high school did I realize I had consumed a lot of calories from these cakes alone; it was tantamount to spraying forty cans of whipped cream into my mouth. But the best part about the cake was not necessarily the taste or flavor of the cake, but it was the presence of the cake itself. The appearance of the cake in a decorative box displayed my mother's awareness of my birthday. Of course she's always been throughout these years! I've been incredibly ungrateful to not thank her and forget Thank You, and just devour the cake. Sometimes I don't leave her a slice and I fatten myself up in the process.
Honestly, I do expect something from my homegirl. The biggest reason I expect from her is mostly because I remember her birthday and I constructed it with Karen. Though Karen's idea fished me into it, I played an active role in placing the order for her cake and creating a message. As a tag duet Karen and I hosted a cacophony of jokes along the way so that we could smuggle in a cake that turned out to be tasteless. Though I learned from my mistake of serving Linda a red velvet a few months before I should have not taken it that far to get her a completely vegan vanilla-chocolate ice cream that tasted like tofu spread. Our taste buds were unacquainted to the bland taste. So is this where they say it's the thought that counts? I can't say that I have low expectations because I am aware I have high expectations that my homegirl should remember my birthday and call me, etc. But this expectation seems unaware of her surrounding situations and her life going on around her. She could be sleeping or studying. Though I stayed up to wish her a happy birthday she does not have to return the favor on my birthday simply because it's not an obligation.
AND HOORAY it's midnight, I'm wishing myself a happy twenty fourth birthday and I'm signed onto Facebook. Let the Happy Birthday wishes accumulate on my notifications. Yep, I already got one. I deliberately signed on so that I could feel better about myself. I've always felt a deep gully of loneliness and strange emptiness billowing inside of me. I don't know if it has something to do with Chungking Express which I just watched, but I feel a whiff of loneliness; I feel like I have been forgotten. Clearly I type this as if the world revolved around me and as if everyone on my friends list were obligated to say happy birthday to me. I just want some love. Just like Angie said a few dozen times, [we all] just want some love, so where's the love? As I watch these comments pop up on my wall, I can't help but find myself falling into nostalgic reactions and typing quaint memories of my friends on their posts. I can't help but feel like complimenting them and telling them what their good traits are. But if Facebook is good at anything, it is certainly good at informing people when their friends' birthdays are, especially if they're best friends. But you see, if people are best friends, Facebook should not notify them and just drop them strange hints like pokes or likes or something, that way the friend can get the hint that well their best friend is turning a certain age. I think that would be more creative! My friend Thomas has changed his birthday to random days to test his so-called best friends; when they said happy birthday to him he completely knew they were not his best friends because they do not even remember his exact birth DATE; most likely they didn't bother to remember. Because if they're bad at memorizing at least they could have written it down somewhere safe.
Am I a passive-aggressive lad? Am I inclined to self-deprecation and self-abasement most of the time? Some parts of me want to have a celebration, in fact, a part of me wants to be thrown a surprise party because in that way I can break my humdrum and even take a risk if my friends decide to throw me off a plane. But on the other hand I don't want to celebrate my birthday because I just want to bury myself in other things and make light of my birthday. I am not genuine in my emotions at the moment. Notice that I didn't put my birthday as public as Facebook half a month ago. Only when I realized my birthday was nearing did I make my birthday public on my info section. This decision was clearly to garner happy birthday wishes which would eventually spice up my night and into the morning. But what I am unclear about is why I have this tendency to make less of myself and be gloomy all day when I can be happy. What happened when I said that I would be happy and optimistic? Should Xia be angry at me? After all she wants me to smile even when I don't feel like it. Would Jamie be annoyed if I didn't hold my head up to the sky? Would Thomas see through me and know that I am simply seeking attention and sympathy? Or maybe even pity; I seek pity from others---oh look at poor Ken he doesn't have time to celebrate his birthday because he's so busy. Gosh darn it he's so busy he's just a forgotten little kid.
For some reason I want to tell my friends that I wasn't able to celebrate my birthday. In my telling them I sense that they will show me sympathy and pity. Their free floating pity that I elicit will actually be pleasurable to me. I seek this sense of self-abasement and sense of lessness. I feel like I want my friends to look down on me in a way. For some odd reason I want to be known as the lonely kid who can't get any girls and who can't find happiness because he is solely marked by lloneliness and emptiness. I want others to pity me because my sadness makes me unique and marketable simply as the lonely boy kinda like Dan Humphrey. But this doesn't ride on a fictional character; I create all this on my own accord.
No comments:
Post a Comment