All I Ever Want

It’s my birthday this week.

I asked myself what I’d like to do on my birthday, and found that I don’t really know. How DOES a person celebrate his own birthday? I know of some people who go around announcing the big occasion to everyone and anyone practically fishing for gifts and well wishes. But I don’t think I could ever bring myself to do that. I’ve always been a bit low profile about such things. I think it’s wrong making a big deal out of yourself. Having people celebrate me is awkward enough without having to oblige people to do it.

Birthdays are supposed to be a big deal, and yet I hardly remember any of them. I don’t know what I did on my 16th, 18th or 21st. The only consistent thing I remember of my birthdays is that people always complain that they don’t know what to get for me. And it gets even more difficult when I tell them that there really is nothing I want. Nothing you can buy from stores anyway. They all inevitably end up giving me things like books without really knowing what I do and don’t read. But truth be told, gifts don’t really do it for me. I’m not the kind that gets touched by the thing you bought, but more by what is conveys. To me, a good gift isn’t one that is shiny, polished or expensive. But one that is deliberate and personal. The kind that shows that you remember what they said, you took note of what they liked, or what they needed at the time. Buying me a pair of polka dot sox because you remember I needed them would mean a lot more to me than say buying an expensive tie which I’d chuck to the side anyway. I don’t know if people understand that.

This year has been a year of solitude for me; with a lot of time spent alone – sometimes by circumstances, sometimes by choice. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so lonely, quite so needy, and quite so vulnerable. And I guess that pretty much sums up how I’ve been feeling most of the year – lonely, needy & vulnerable. And I’ve been way too intense, and way too serious to be any sort of fun to be around this year. Even I know it.

But like I said, I don’t know what I’m going to do on my birthday.

I thought of taking the day off. Maybe go on a road trip travelling the country for a day with my camera taking pictures of whatever comes my way. I suppose that’d be quite an interesting thing to do. But I suspect doing it alone would actually make me more depressed than anything else. Otherwise, I’d want to go somewhere where there are nice comfortable seats with a live band playing lounge music the entire night and chill the entire night. But again, it’s just plain sad if you did it alone. Last choice would be to go pig out at the nearby RM20 per head all-you-can-eat-southern-fried-chicken buffet restaurant. That one’s just plain stupid actually.

But while I still haven’t figured out what I do want, I know what I DON’T want. – a barrage of hollow Facebook well wishes.

This is one of the ugly heads of Facebook. One day in a year, your wall will be bombarded with shallow, meaningless birthday wishes from people whom without Facebook, would not even remember how you look like, let alone remember your birthday. In anticipation of this, I have hid my birthday in my privacy settings. I’m not really interested in the well wishes of people who don’t care. Same goes for those who send cute but impersonal emails or text messages about how friends are like stars that you don’t always see but are always there. Sending me spam on my birthday isn’t a gift, it’s an insult.

A birthday is a personal event meant to be celebrated in a personal way. If you want to celebrate or wish someone well on their birthday, please remember these few simple words - up close & personal. Is a call really so hard? Is a cup of coffee really so expensive? If you don’t want to do these things, then the best thing you can do is nothing. A dignified silence is better than an insincere wish – to me at least.

Sigh….

I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me.

Maybe…. Maybe…… what’s truly truly upsetting me when I woke up this morning is the thought that there is a very strong likelihood that I will be spending my birthday alone. There is no party being planned. And even if there was, I’d immediately object to it. My family bought me a birthday lunch last Sunday, so I really don’t want to make them do it twice. I don’t expect anything from any of my friends. I have spared the lot of them the need to send me half hearted wishes by not revealing it. And those I consider dear to me – well frankly I’d still love them even if they don’t remember. What they do for me for the rest of the 364 days of the year means so much more. Whether or not they remember doesn’t affect the status of our friendship. Heck, even my own father never gets my birthday right.

People were right when they said they never know what to get me. They say I’m complicated and hard to read. I’m inclined to agree. But what I want on my birthday is the same thing I want every other day. In fact, it’s the same thing everybody wants every day of their lives.

I just want to be appreciated. I just want to know that my tiny little existence has had some sort of meaningful effect on the people I deal with in life. I just want to know that all the things I have done in service of others have not been for for nothing. I want to be reaffirmed that whenever I put others before me, it is not in vain - that the act is acknowledged and appreciated. The only thing I want on the day I was given life, is the assurance that my existence is of meaning to others.

That’s all.

That’s all I ever want