Thursday, November 18, 2004

And Now, I'm Officially Legal...

Michelle was the first one to ring in my birthday with a phone call at 1 in the morning.

"You're old, bitch!"

That's right folks. I have officially crossed over into the "I don't need no stinking ID" age group. No longer will I have get all antsy around police officers if I'm trying to buy liquor around them. Never will I get a ticket for underage drinking. And no rejection at the front doors of bars. Now that I'm 21, my ID has become useful again; I don't have to pretend I'm "Abu Aknar" or anyone else to get on by. I can be plain old me, simply because I'm finally at the right age range.

It sucked ass how I was able to smoke, buy a lottery ticket, get a credit card (incur debt), and die for my country, but I couldn't buy liquor. That was a fucking bitch. But, now, things are good now that I'm on the other side. What's the first thing I'm gonna do now that I'm 21? Rent a car from Enterprise WITHOUT having to pay for that ridiculous "underage" fee. Can you say, "roadtrip?" :-)

...So, people have been asking me, "Ray, what did you do for your 21st birthday?" Well, I'll tell you...I went to class, went to the SU Bookstore to pick up a cake that my dear ol' momma had ordered for me (once again, fuck you people for calling me a "momma's boy." There's nothing wrong with having ONE person in your life to call you up out the blue and tell you that they love you. :-) ), chilled with Michelle for a hot second, and headed to the movies to see the "Motorcycle Diaries" with ZuZu and Justine. Before I get into the movie, let me dig into Michelle for a sec...this bitch...and I'm laughing while I'm typing this...you gotta give this bitch some credit for being able to come up with some silly ass jokes...

A couple of weeks ago, Michelle asked me in between classes what I wanted for my birthday. Now, unless I know that you can really afford what I want, or I'll be able to reciprocate and buy something of similar value, I'm never clear to other people in describing what it is I really want for particular occasions. For example, I may want that X-Box or that ill-ass jacket, but I'll never tell you that exactly. I'll prolly make a joke of it, and then, two days later, go to the mall with you and gawk in a store window at the object of my desire. Especially when it comes to girls. Women always want to know if the men in their lives are listening and observing...well, chica, it's time you start doing the same exact thing for us. If you want to know what it is I want for birthdays/Christmas, I want you to pay attention to me and figure out what it is I want. Because, it's not just about the gift, folks...it's about the time spent, the small conversations and the stolen moments you have with that person, all as you try to figure out if the gift you have in mind would really suit them. For all you know, all I could want is this year's edition of the HESS truck, and you'd only know if you ever paid attention to me enough. (By the way...I already have the HESS truck in my possession, just in case it popped into anyone's minds...) So, when Michelle asked me what I wanted, true to form, I replied, "man, all I want is either sex or a hug." Now, this bitch, instead of trying to figure out what it was I really wanted, she decided to use my birthday gift as a prank and showed up with an inflatable wife, and then giving me a hug afterwards.

"See? I got you sex, AND I gave you a hug. Aren't I the best?"

So, now that I have a gift that I'll never open, lol, I'm forced to make up an entry just for people like Michelle so they can understand what I REALLY want for these kinds of occassions. Be on the lookout for it soon.

As for Michelle...well, let's just say that April Fool's Day can't come soon enough...;-)

...I finally got to see "Motorcycle Diaries," the foreign, Spanish movie about Che Guevara before he became the daring revolutionary, starring that dude from "Y Tu Mama Tambien" and "El Crimen de Padre Amaro." Man...I loved that movie. When it comes out, it will be an instant add to my DVD collection. Any movie that can make me tear up at the end, fuck it, I'm buying it. (Though I did cry from watching "Daredevil," but more because I realized that I lost two hours of my life that I was never getting back.) I highly suggest you go see it if you want to understand a little bit more about the man that you see emblazoned on these prick's t-shirts on the streets. (I get peeved thinking about the people who BUY shirts with Che's face on them...like, you just bought into a capitalist enterprise of SELLING the image of one of the most historic figures of the SOCIALIST movement in history.) Better than that, read the actual diaries this movie was based on so you can get a feel for what made this man tick. (Cuba might be a different place if Che had been around to assert himself around Fidel...Che wasn't really feeling the Soviet take on Socialism)

...It's amazing to think that a year passed by so quickly...last year, at this same time, I was going through quite possibly, one of the worst birthdays I had ever experienced, emotionally. After my mother came up and visited "my neck of the woods" in snowy Syracuse, I truly felt what it was like to be truly cared for. We talked, joked around, caught up on things, ate good food, and drove around town while we took advantage of dear ol' Cookie's 4 x 4 capabilities. But, when she left on my actual birthday, I never felt so alone in my life. My roommate, Morgan, was off dealing with his on again, off again girlfriend and dealing with the aftereffects of a serious car accident. ZuZu and Michelle, though they lived across the street and stopped by from time to time, didn't really get involved in my life as much because someone else was there for me, at least in theory. And as for that particular person? Well, it was thinking about her that made me feel the most alone. Chiyo. The one person that I had vested such importance in my life, had placed me in such an emotional dilemma only a few days before my birthday. Imagine coming home from work, only to see your significant other's "dirty" ex (not the "ex" that things just fell apart with, but the "ex" that did the grimiest shit to end the relationship) coming out of their bedroom with a big smile on their face? After that moment, no matter what she said, and no matter what evidence I could or could not find, I never held full trust in her again. And if you can't trust the person that's supposed to be the closest to you, boy, you're in one fucking pickle.

I remember text messaging Chiyo shortly after I arrived back home from dropping my mother off at the airport:

"I feel so alone. :-("

A few minutes later, my cell phone buzzed with a reply:

"But, you have me...:-( "

A temper flared up inside of me when I received that message. You fucking lying bitch. I felt like calling her and cursing her out right then and there. Instead, I didn't say anything back at all. I just remember crying. A 20-year old dude, crying. On his birthday. There was such confusion on my end, I didn't know WHAT to think. On the one hand, I had the incident with the ex from days before. And on the other hand, I had the whole, "Chiyo going all out to please her man," thing...she made this big dinner and got me this videogame I wanted at the time, and didn't waste a second in dishing out all the hugs and kisses I could ask for. I remember saying to myself that I just wish I found her fucking the dude so I could be more decisive in utterly cutting her off. I could HATE her. I remembered wishing that things had been worse off, that our relations had shattered, and that every spoken word to one another was an insult. I didn't want to have to spend time agonizing over what was going wrong when so many things were going right...

...Here we are, a year later, and the situation has changed completely. I'm no longer crying on my birthday. No longer am I second guessing my girlfriend's actions. (Hell, no longer do I have a girlfriend) And now, I have support. I have friends. People who get me inflatable wives and accompany me to see movies about Socialist revolutionaries. I have 49 Facebook messages from people wishing me a "Happy Birthday," from acquaintances, old friends, and family, alike.

And life is good.

Here's a (legal) toast to having a real "Happy" Birthday. Cheers, mates.

3 Comments:

Blogger Zulay said...

No inflatable wife's!!! btw, i haven't seen her in a bit... u sure u aint open it?

:-P Happy Bday stinky

2:47 AM  
Blogger Veronica said...

Happy belated birthday. I actually visited your site on Friday and this post wasn't here. Anyway, hope you had a good one.

I still haven't been able to see "Motorcycle Diaries" but I did read the book. I loved it! I can't wait until it's out on DVD so I can watch it. I hate that Bakersfield isn't a very cultural city. Bah!

Haha! Inflatable wife! That's great! You have some great friends who do actually listen to you.

11:36 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Glad you liked the cake. Sorry couldn't be there in person for the big 21 (damn school). I'm glad you had your friends with you, getting drunk with your mom isn't quite the same. Oh and by the way Michelle couldn't have been the first one to call you since technically you didn't turn 21 until 5:45 a.m. on 11/17 if she called you at 1, you weren't born yet and hence STILL 20!! I was the first - HA!! I should know I was there. Always remember ME BUBBOOOOO!!

12:11 PM  

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