Birthday.

Today is probably as dramatic as a bunch of kids from the usual high school drama club, only more dramatic and gloomy and emotive. Today being technically my last day before college, I cannot expound more on the emotions curled up somewhere in my pancreas. For one, they don't exist.

Now that is what you call bullshitness.

So yeah, this is my first post as a 17-year-old bitch, and I'm getting a slight smack in the head (by no other than God, duh.) everytime I think of something immature and stupid. Man, four days have already passed and the only benefit I'm getting is this.

Yeah, birthday was good. This is the first time I slept through my birthday, and did not wait for time to take its toll on my day. I woke up like a normal person on a completely normal day. As I opened my phone, I was surprised by the number of people who remembered and waited till the short and long hands of the clock made their way to number twelve together. I don't usually get touched by quasi-philanthropic acts like these, but what the fucking hell. I was terribly unhappy during the past few days because of my parents, and these bastards and bitches made up for it by greeting me a 'happy birthday' and throwing in the usual 'tumatanda ka na' (you're getting older) semi-pun with it. I admit, the latter is sickening already. But when you're sad and you just want to fuck life, any joke will surely brighten up your day.

Monica is the first person who gave me a real birthday gift. Not money, or garbage, with emphasis on the latter because for some reason, she likes giving her trash to other people as a gift. What a sicko, I know. She gave me a copy of Jessica Zafra's Twisted 8 : The Night of the Living Twisted. Sure, it was supposed to be a graduation gift. But I still accepted it. I mean, what gift shouldn't be accepted anyway? Up to now I'm still open for Christmas gifts and Valentine's Day gifts and other gifts people forgot to give me. I've already finished the book and I really
really really loved it, more than I loved McCafferty's series. I swear.

After that we went out for some reserved lunch at The Peninsula Manila. The food was so scrumptuous, that by the time Mom already allowed us to hit the desserts, we were catching our breath like hell. It was that good, I can't even remember what we ate. But I still prefer McDonald's. Don't get me wrong, but it was all too formal. I'm guessing that the jeans-and-shirt combination made me less of a human for clothing myself with it. Next time, I'll probably wear an onion sack.

I spent the rest of the day with Monica at TriNoma. You know, I never knew going to the mall with a hefty amount of cash would be so fun. I swear. I bought two things that are so random, they're now rotting in the shelves because duh, I don't know how to use them, or where or whatever (except for the Beatles bag). I don't really like shopping for clothes without my mother, because she's this only person who knows what pieces of clothing are flattering to my figure. The latter is questionable, since I think I don't even have a figure. Figures (Pun!).

17 is the dumbest age ever. This is totally the age Innocent Britney's song during the previous decade, 'Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman' is referring too. You're kinda in-between two age groups and that being heavily-stereotyped, 17's a gray area. If you put in into simple terms, sixteen is barely legal and eighteen IS legal. And I'm a what? Oh screw my seventeenness.