I feel odd when friends sing happy birthday. My palms go sweaty. I feel queasy. My breath goes short. And It's not that I have anything against birthday celebrations. It's just that I haven't had much experience being the birthday celebrant.

I'm born on the first of November. In my country, on my birthday, the entire nation is on holiday. Schools, offices, factories and even government offices would all be closed. Everyone goes to mourn the death of some love one they've lost. On the Philippine calendar, regardless of which day it falls on, my birthday would be a holiday. In fact, it's a day everyone looks forward to. Which kid wouldn't look forward to three days vacation? People would flock to cemeteries in droves. Memorial parks would be brimming with life. When malls go on sale, they could only wish they could get as many guests as cemeteries do on my birthday. In fact, if you look at the cemeteries, you'd think the trees were on sale. It's like a Michael Jackson concert, just that the only song appropriate would be Thriller. And as for me? I stayed home, with my family. It'll be just us and our spartan party. I'd be lucky to have a cake but the cake shop would also be on holiday. Anyone and everyone would have the death of someone to mourn and remember, everyone except us.

I didn't get much for gifts either. My family wasn't much on presents. And I don't have any godparents. But that's okay, I didn't ask for much. There was no one to ask anyways. Haha!

One thing I did cherish from my family though. I got to experience the kind of honesty you could only get when there isn't much else to be had. On my birthday, my mom would always cook my favorite dish, fried tofu. Yeap! It's really just plain tofu, fried to a golden brown. Nothing special. The secret was in the sauce, the recipe of which I shan't reveal in this blog. I was a kid who did't eat much, my photos as a kid could attest to that, but when we had fried tofu on the table, I had a special bowl for the sauce right next to my plate while the rest of my family would share the other bowl. When everyone was done eating, I made sure there was no tofu left standing on the table.

Then my mom would cook her famous spaghetti. It was well-known in and out of the family. No one else could make spaghetti like she does. My mom would also cook half a dozen other family favorites, all of which would be present for other family birthday celebrations. All, except for the fried tofu. That was reserved for my birthday.

My mom would finish cooking and call everyone in for lunch. But they won't sing happy birthday. My mom would just pray and thank God for my life.

Out of everyone I knew, my family would be the only one who would choose to celebrate the life of a person rather than mourn someone else's passing away. The contrast between my family and all the rest was a gift no one could ever lay claim to, but me. To be honest about it, I never looked forward to my birthday, and as it's quite obvious, I didn't really have much to look forward to. My mom would often cook my favorite dish on regular days anyway. My special day wasn't really that special. But isn't it a good thing when you don't look forward to your birthday? Doesn't it mean that the other days are probably just as good as that supposedly special day, and that you couldn't really ask for more on regular days that could make any other day any more special.

An hour or two after lunch, there'll be a doorbell. My best buddy would invite me to play basketball. What he's doing home is still a mystery, up till this day. Mostly, it'll be just the two of us and their driver who would watch over us. At some point our younger brothers would accompany us to the basketball court, but either way, the entire court would be ours. No grown up boys bullying us with their post adolescent strength. We'd play 'horse' or 'twenty-one' until sun-down when we head home. The only present I remember I received as a kid came from my best bud. It was a Superman comic book. It wasn't even wrapped. It was in the very plastic cellophane that had its price lightly marked on the upper right corner when he gave it to me. It was the issue where Superman regained his powers after coming back to life powerless donning a black costume. What is it with this post? Thriller, cemeteries, and even Superman comes back from the dead. It was seventy pesos, I remember. And for kids who only had 20 bucks for allowance, that was a big deal... At least it was for me.

I am often asked why I miss the Philippines so much. Between my family, my best bud, the fried tofu and the only present I had that wasn't even wrapped, I couldn't really tell. So difficult to choose cuz I think any one of these would have been enough for me to claim that I was the luckiest kid in the planet.

I may never have had the chance to have friends come over for my birthday and at school they'd call me the living dead cuz I always had huge eye-bags and my birthday was on the first of November, but I know few who could equal the love I have for my family and friends, and fewer still who could surpass it. I may not be showy. I'm quiet like my dad. I'd sooner lend a hand than celebrate anything. But my love for them is true and honest and spartan like the many birthday celebrations I was taught to cherish.

Well, there. Thanks for reading all the way to this line. And if you are here cuz you greeted me on my birthday, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But tonight, I'd like thank the people I mentioned in this post. You guys made my life special. I really really thank God I had all of you! That's really what I wanted to say. Thank you!

~David, also affectionately known as, the living dead, haha!

If you don't think reading this article was an utter complete waste of time, then maybe you have too much free time or there were hints of brilliance in this post that could resurface in the other posts I have. May I recommend a few that some friends of mine like. I would often write garbage. But when friends like an article and go out of their way to complement me, I take note. Here they are, proceed at your own risk, cuz mind you, I don't remember what chemical influence I was under when I wrote these. It could easily be caffeine or sugar, fifty fifty. And sometimes both. There are a gazzilion mistakes. But I'd like to preserve them the way they are. Honest and true. So, shameless plug.. so what? coming in 3.. 2.. 1..

1. Soft Roots
2. Running Comeback
3. the attic (personal favorite)
4. Dreams, Farming, and a Dog Named Solitude
5. A Series of Unplanned Events
6. Cheese Jam and Butter
7. Super heroes Defining Moment