“Happy birthday, me! You’re no longer a teenager. Which means that you should be pretty mature, huh. I bet you dress all fancy, and go to college and take good notes, and go to work and earn that money. I bet you drive your own car, and drive all the boys mad.
I’m not a teenager, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a kid.
I dress however I like, go to class (sometimes), take some notes (and read on my computer the rest of the time), work a few days, kind of earn my money. I take the bus wherever I go, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t driven many boys anywhere.
When we’re little, people ask us what we want to be. We imagine several years into the future and see flying cars and halograms, with us rolling in money, living in mansions and basically livin’ the good life. And then we get to those years in the future, and we’re…..well, not quite there.
I’ve come so far, and yet not at all. I still love my stuffed animals and watch hours more tv than I ought to, and would prefer to do anything but my schoolwork.
But here’s to hoping! Hoping that we’ll still get flying cars and awesome maid robots. And hoping that I’ll still become everything I want to be and do everything I want to do.
My parents have grand expectations of me. They expect me to go to grad school right after college, and marry a rich guy who’ll provide for me so that I can work at a very well-paying job that isn’t too stressful and that has flexible hours. They probably expect me to have a couple of kids, and have a nice car and travel a lot. So basically they expect me to live the good life.
But I have slightly humbler expectations. Obviously, I wouldn’t mind all that, but I really don’t know what’s in store for me. Twenty years ago I had no idea what I’d be doing or have done (of course not, I was just born! Hah), and I have no idea what I’ll be doing or have done twenty years from now. But hopefully, I’ll be living comfortably, in a job I enjoy, and with a person I love. I’m really just hoping I’ll be happy. And I hope you will too. Because who doesn’t deserve that?
So here’s a thank-you, to all the people who’ve been in my life in the past, whether for good or for bad, because they shaped me into who I am today. And a welcome, to all the people still to come or to stay, because they’ll help shape me into who I will be.
Who knows? Maybe in another twenty years I’ll still be dressing as I like, watching more tv than I should and taking the bus.”
…..I really should’ve said all that when my friends asked me for a toast at my birthday party. But I was caught off guard! The entire party was a surprise that my bf threw for me. I thought we were going to dinner at a nice restaurant. I got dressed up for it and everything. Wore a dress, did my nails, did my makeup. But I ended up running around on a grass field playing soccer and throwing water balloons, and playing with the puppy, and eating pizza, chips, and risotto. Definitely way more fun. But not quite what I expected. AND there was a PINATA! I’ve never had one before! It was surprisingly fun. I think I want one after every finals week.
I mean, it wasn’t a TOTAL surprise. I saw earlier on my bf’s facebook wall an event saying, “surprise party”. But I didn’t know when or where. And the day before, I skipped out of work unexpectedly and ended up going to pick up my cake (Asian fruit cake. YUM SO GOOD). And the day of, when dinnertime rolled around and my friend called to say that we had to go to my bf’s house to pick him up because for some reason his parents borrows his car, I can’t say that I didn’t figure it out.
But it was a surprise! My friends had decorated the house, and my bf had whipped up dinner for everyone and picked up cupcakes (in addition to the cake. I know. I’m spoiled rotten). I almost got my ears pierced too! But the Claire’s at the mall was closing and I didn’t have ID. But we did find something else at Claire’s!
Anyways, it was all very fun! I wish I’d made a cake, more for the sake of posting with this than really eating it. I had two cakes at the party (cake and cupcakes), and my parents also bought me mini-ones the next weekend. At my party last year, there were also three cakes. At once. Oh, so much sweet sweet goodness. But I think three’s plenty. Not sure what’ll happen once I unlock the floodgates to more than three cakes for one birthday.
(that’s what my three cakes are for)