Wind, rain and cold air make a dreadful Monday morning commute, but I don’t let that ruined the spirit of my thirty-fucking-four birthday. Although I have never care much about my own birthday, it gives me a reason to celebrate. I used to think that birthday is just a countdown to the day you die, which is not a bad reason to celebrate, but now
I think it helps me keep track of the days I am still alive. I should be thankful for that. Life is fucking short and unpredictable. You can see that every time you hear someone you know passed away all of a sudden.
When you’re hitting mid 30s, celebrating your birthday is much different. Gone are the days of birthday party and party sex. You just have to enjoy the moment. So I kicked off with a venti vanilla latte courtesy of Starbucks. (Yes, I am a gold member.) Then I’ll go to Viet Royal for salt-and-pepper lobster. It’s going to be my last lobster week. I am going to get back to the grill chicken salad again. It’s been too damn hard to get back to my green diet when I work too damn closed to Eden Center, but it has to happen. I have to watch my diet.
As I was writing this, Dao called and sang a birthday song and suddenly the sun is out. It’s a lovely day again. Thank you my son. I got mad love for you.