Wednesday, October 22, 2008


This is not a code to unlock any profitable Swiss bank account or the pin number for my atm card although it used to be. It’s basically a date. My date of birth aka my first cry.

Since young maybe because of our financial situation, my family doesn’t have the custom to celebrate birthday. However, my mom will always prepare this hot traditional soupy delectable vermicelli with 2 hard boiled eggs that can beat any highly embellished creamy birthday cake and I’m not saying this as self-pity. Till this day, the soupy vermicelli still remains as my favorite dish.

Not until when I reached secondary school, when your sweetest friend tends to throw you a surprise school canteen party (that doesn’t seem surprise at all, it’s your birthday!!) so that in return you can throw them the same birthday party too. Your chums will "Sabo" you by smearing some buttery cream on the face, using egg and flour for bomb attack and if you're a man, you might get some beaten up to indicate that you've grown and becoming a man. Not to mention, those lovely mugs, photo albums and greeting cards that you received are something that I cherish till this day. Those friendship that was forged with my chums during the secondary days is something I held close to my heart.

As I grow bigger much bigger as you can tell from my photos; my attitude towards my birthday becomes a phobia. I have developed POMB, Phobia on my Birthday.

As all sentient beings, we tend to be calculative, regardless it’s the price of the gift that doesn’t equate to the value of your returns, the person who bought the gift isn’t as appreciative, understanding or up to your expectation, good friend that don’t turn up or arrive late on your birthday or perhaps receiving gift that doesn’t fit you, in terms of shapes & sizes. Whatever it is, all these “little” trivial incidents create a fear in me since 2002. That’s also the year I stop having birthday to commemorate that my birth has absolutely no sense in making me miserable. Although one good thing does turn out for my mum is that she has strike 4D a few times based on my birth date and IC numbers.

I used to tell myself if Birthday isn’t the day to expect something in return then what’s the use of having a birthday? I guess I was wrong. Never do anything for something in return. Thus with no birthday comes no expectation and anything that comes on that day maybe perhaps or possibly might seem as “surprise”. Occasionally, I do have birthday cake for the past few years as my chums will out talk me saying well, we aren't celebrating your birthday since we don't do it on the actual day. Nonetheless, I do appreciate their effort by throwing me surprises.

As my birthday is drawing near, I can’t help but to wonder if I still have POMB or the unhappy and unwanted memories will keep on haunting me until I’ve really learn not to expect anything from my birthday…

Friday, October 3, 2008