Post-"Apocalypse"

Let me start this blog by telling you what went down on my 23rd birthday celebration. Not that anybody cares but whatever. I'll go into my post-"end of the world" rants later.

Due to budget restrictions, my mom talked me into celebrating my 23rd in a bar with some of her friends who are friends with strange, hot military men. I'm not really sure why I obliged because I actually planned my 23rd to be a blissful, worry-free day with my friends from high school and college. But since all of my friends are busy, I had to rely on other people's friends to be my temporary friends on my birthday. I sort of felt sorry for myself but I guess I was too psyched about turning 23 to even give a shit. Anyway, it was the eve of my birthday and we all went to this little bar along C5. It reminded me of the bar my high school friends and I used to go to - awesome drinks and sounds minus the hot guys who'll love you for a night if you have enough cash. It's not really that bad. We drank, ate and danced the night away like I don't have a job to go to afterwards. And I also met this guy who's so freakin' hot I forgot about all the other guys in the world. There were actually four of them who joined the gang but he's the best looking one, not to mention the youngest. I called him Jake right after he told me his real name which is Mike (which I thought was lame for someone who looks like Jake Cuenca). We talked, I flirted, he laughed - same old story for the poor girl who claims to be an awesome love story writer with no love life. But I have to admit that he's quite subtle in pushing me away. He pointed out that he has a girlfriend somewhere in Mindanao while I stared deep into his eyes like a love-crazed lunatic. But I went on flirting with him anyway like I always do after a guy indirectly tells me to get lost. My sister kind of forced him to get my number which he did and it made me so goddamn happy. After a night of booze, food and a no-call-no-show at work, I found myself on my bed, holding my head like it's going to fall off my shoulders because of a bad hangover while waiting for Jake/Mike to call or text. It never happened. Until now. Well, happy birthday to me.

I have to say that being 23 is no different than being 22. Same life, same status, same haircut. Sometimes, I feel like nothing in my life will ever change until I get married (which I seriously doubt right now) or get myself thrown into jail for doing drugs (which I believe is more plausible). It's been another year in my life and I feel like I didn't do anything remarkable the past 365 days. The little voice inside me says I have to give myself some credit but I can't help comparing myself to people my age who are already kicking ass in life. I mean, I have a job and all but to be honest, I'm not really proud of it, not nearly as proud as I was about being a Science teacher last year although it's ten times more stressful. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and it all boiled down to one thing - I want to be a teacher. It's the one job that I can see myself doing long term even if it sucks the life out of me and it's something that I can tell the world to be my life's work. I know it's not gonna make me financially stable by the time I turn 25 but I guess I'll deal with it when I get there.

And now, the post-"end of the world" rants. Well, I really got nothing to rant about the supposed-to-be end of the world yesterday. I sure am happy it didn't happen but on the other hand, it's still quite scary. That's all I got.

I gotta go. Gotta contemplate.