I’m 21. Some reflections.

Nothing much to write about nowadays as I am still trapped donning the green uniform.

On 18 Jan 09 I reach the age of 21. I won’t say celebrate. I see no sense in celebrating. I don’t feel wiser, more mature. I only feel older. I do not have any income other than the little loose changes that Mindef rewards me for protecting the nation. Having a birthday celebration would mean that my kind parents would have to cough out a few hundred dollars, if not thousands, for a birthday party. Why waste the money to celebrate something that has no meaning for me? I think that people love to celebrate or party over small little things. In this society we are so deprived of happiness that what ever thing that can be celebrated, some people will go all out to celebrate it. Look at Christmas Zoukout Sentosa and the Countdown to 2009. Christmas is about being with family. A new year is just an artificial number/system we have invented to keep track of time, based loosely on the rotation of Earth around the sun. What is the significance of celebrating this events? Yet people celebrate them and get themselves drunk and molested.

I was in NUS’s Macdonald the other day when I spotted guy handing out birthday invitations. There are many kinds of people in this world and I detest people who package themselves nicely but has little more than a peanut inside the skull. Looking at the atrocious quality of essay he happen to have on the table, and the way he was happily skipping questions on his tutorial like a little girl skipping on a flower bed, I have concluded he is one of those kind. The birthday invitation cards he was handing out is no cheap affair. Those are thick, laminated (not those cheapskate lamination you can do in a book store), full colour and beautifully designed affairs. The venue is some many many stars hotel where I think I’ll lost my way in its toilet. Happily, he hand these out, surrounded by ugly girls with thick make-ups, wearing expensive looking accessories and bags.

So where did he get the money for the celebration from? He doesn’t appear to be a half-assed technopreneur like me who could make a few thousand dollars from the occasional freelance work that took me just a few hours to fulfill. This is big money he was spending on his birthday celebration, and the whole thing just reeks of ego and delusional self-importance. And as mentioned earlier he certainly doesn’t look like he can fund his own birthday celebration, thus his family must be loaded to be able to waste away money this way. That could explain why he has such a large crowd of girls wriggling around him, like sperms around an egg. They are all trying their luck to get into a rich family.

I mean, I feel that an elaborate birthday celebration is all right if the person celebrating birthday is someone of real importance, like our Minister Mentor. That guy is just a insensible egg head who can’t even do his tutorial! What is so great about him?

You may smell some jealousy in there, but it has more to do with envying the fact that he has the fortune to be born into a loaded family.

I come from a lower middle class family. Quite early last year my parents were already asking me what I want to do for my birthday. They told me they were prepared to foot all the bills, for me to book some chalet or something and catered food and invite lots of people to come. After considering, I say no. I don’t want any celebration. True, it is common knowledge that going to 21 marks a person’s transition a child to adult, but to me having an elaborate celebration for this only highlights the fact that I still have not made the transition. An sensible adult would not waste parents’ hard earned cash on celebrations.

So I did not do any elaborate celebration. It was just a simple “relatives gather to cut cake sing song” affair. Most people I know don’t even know I am 21 now. But in this sense I feel that I have grown up. At least a tiny bit.

And as for that guy, he can celebrate as many birthdays as he wants, but I still think he is nothing but a child.

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