There is something so compelling about my birthday, I can barely put it into a coherent sentence. Somehow, despite my built-in love for all things pretty and, yes, even classy, when the first day of September strikes, I am all for cheap, tacky and junk. So here is my cake.
I didn't bake it after all, I bought it, and, as per usual, I could not resist the slightly camp HAPPY BIRTHDAY candles. Beats buying multiple packs in order to stab the cake with my actual age. I think I stopped doing that a handful of years back, when I was 26 or so. Mind you, I loved the cake ablaze with so many lights but I equally love one that spells the message too.
Back to the junk. Yes, birthday junk. I love to have a birthday lunch at the Old Orleans, a faux-Creole place, much like Pizza Express is faux Italian and Wagamama is faux Japanese. Still, the low lights, the fake musical instruments and the placca-like decorations strewn across the place make me happy happy happy and, for some unfathomable reasons, only ever come to mind as my birthday approaches. Today I had lunch there (an unremarkable bean chilli, as most food is in faux-places, remarkably unremarkable) and then went to The Dark Knight at the IMAX, which made for really good revision now that I am ready (and free) to tackle my research full-time. And did I mention that I really love the soundtrack? Plus, listening to it in the movie theatre is much better than playing it ad lib in the car. For one, listening to it within its natural context does not make me feel like driving off a cliff and calling it a day. Batman is not called the Dark Knight for nothing.
Yes, now I am free. I am free to be who I am. And you know something, I am ridiculously happy for it. I knew this was going to be a seminal birthday tagged towards the end of a seminal year and, blow me, it really was. Cheers!