Marc, my fiancé husband, turned 26 today. He’s a 26-year-old angel, you know. Well, sometimes he’s not-so-angelic, but regardless of which, I can still be more evil than he is. I guess that’s why we work so well together—we’re total opposites.

I’m not much of a superstitious person, but the circumstances on how Marc and I met were a bit strange. This sounds really cheesy, but really, for some reason I feel that it was meant to be (geez, just a bit more cheesiness and I’ll be turning this blog into one of those omigod-he’s-so-cute pinky dear-diary blogs).

Seriously though, if you’ve already met me and Marc at the same time, you’d see the difference. You’d probably hear me talking the entire time you’ve been drinking your coffee, but you’d be lucky to hear more than 5-minutes’ worth of talking from Marc. Probably even less than five minutes.

I’ve heard some friends telling me that we usually end up with somebody who somehow reminds us of our parents. It’s a psychological thing—I don’t really know how to explain it, I’m not a psychologist, after all. Marc is a bit like my dad in some ways.

Both are incredibly patient, and shy. Dad wasn’t much of a talker either, well, not until my mom had the stroke at least. My mom usually did the talking, and it was only recently did he become the one who talked because Mommy couldn’t. They were both scrawny when they got married (Dad only put on weight when he got older), and both of them married bitches haha. Dad and Marc also make me feel safe and protected. But regardless of all these similarities, they’re still different. Dad is Dad, Marc is Marc. And I love them both. In different ways, yes, but I do love them both.

Before we got married, I endured major teasing from my friends: “sigurado ka na ba dyan? (are you sure about him?).” There was also one person who has tried to make us doubt each other, but we just laughed it off. The idea of one of us messing with the other because of money was just ludicrous (don’t ask me where this guy got his insane ideas, but hey, we have to accept the fact that there are a lot of crazy people in the world running amok like a chicken with its head cut loose). Marc is kind, but he’s not a fool.

We’ve gone through a lot together already, there were even some things that don’t normally happen to most people but did to us. Those people and circumstances only brought the two of us closer to one another. I know we’ll be “stuck” to each other for the rest of our days, but contrary to bitter people’s belief, we’re both happily looking forward to this lifetime together.

I thank God for giving me Marc. Happy Birthday honey dears! 😀

I told you I wanted to do this topic justice, and create an entire entry about it.

Ok, I admit. Call me sentimental, but talking about what I got for my birthday makes me a bit teary-eyed. They’re probably the best presents I ever received.

Marc got me a pair of funky earrings, and spent the entire day with me. My dad cooked one of my favorite dishes: Sweet and Sour Pork, just for me. He cooked it for lunch, but I was asleep because I had to work late the night before, so he kept it in the fridge for me until I wake up. They didn’t even touch it, because they said it was my dad’s gift for me. My sister gave me a homemade card. She’s still not as OK as before (she still laughs over nothing and does some pretty weird things), so our maid helped her with the card. My mom gave me pastries that were given to her (she wasn’t allowed to eat them, but she didn’t want to part with them either so I was really touched she gave it to me).

So maybe we’re broke. It’s a real drag seeing our earnings go straight to medicine expenses, but hey, we’re happy. During my birthday, my mom cried without pissing me off. Crying has become a habit for her already, and it can get pretty annoying. But on my birthday, I understood why she cried. She had a reason to, a REAL reason to. She was crying and saying sorry to me, and gesturing to the pastries she gave. My dad and I knew what she was saying: she was sorry that it was all that she can give me. I told her to think nothing of it, I’m already 24, I have a job, and I should be the one treating them out. My dad and I didn’t want my birthday to be one sad cry-fest, so he helped me tell her not to be bothered by it. There are people with the same birthday as I do, but unlike me, they don’t even have anything to eat, let alone have pastries and sweet and sour pork.

What my mom doesn’t realize (but I’m sure my dad does) is that this is probably the best birthday I’ve had in two years. Two years ago, we spent my birthday at my grandma’s wake. I was her favorite granddaughter, so losing her a few days before my birthday was extra painful. Then last year, I spent my birthday only with Marc, Mommy, and Dad. Joyce, my younger sister, was admitted to the Metro Psych facility at that time. We weren’t allowed to see her, because that time was a critical period for her according to her psychiatrist.

Maybe I’m just a simple person, but really, this birthday was way better than those I’ve had during the past two years (and years before that too, because at that time, we really couldn’t celebrate due to the simple reason that Joyce was still very violent). Or maybe that I’ve gone through so much that my priorities have changed. I guess that really happens if you’re suddenly plunged into an unavoidable responsibility. When I really think about it, I don’t really have to do this. I’m earning enough to be able to live comfortably on my own with my three dogs, and have more than enough for leisure that most people my age would love to brag about. But I choose not to. I choose to stay here with my family, and help my dad through this financial crisis. My dad really isn’t obliging me to stay, but I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to live with my self knowing that I left my family in such difficult times. It’s my choice, and I’m pretty sure this choice will lead me to something good, somewhere along the way.

Ok, enough drama. I’m starting to feel guilty for spending Php3,000 on my hair again. I only spend that much on vanity once a year (specifically during my birthdays). Marc said that I deserve to treat my self at least once in a while. Maybe I do, but STILL. 3,000 bucks for hair tint, highlights, and haircut. My friends say it’s already a good deal, considering how thick and long my hair is, but I still feel guilty spending that much on vanity. Marc said that I should consider it my birthday gift to my self, and it’s an occasional (if not rare) treat I give my self for the work I’ve been doing. Maybe he’s right. I guess the only reason I felt a bit bad about it afterwards is that I should have bought that way cool Thermaltake aluminum casing instead. Well, I’m weird that way. Or maybe I’m just too practical. Hehe. It bugs me whenever I spend on something that’s not beneficial to my job in some way. My hair has absolutely nothing to do with my job. I really can’t see a practical reason for it, but I got to admit spending on vanity for once felt good. Maybe that’s what Marc wants me to do and feel: do something brainless and vain for a change. Too much work and thinking too much about work can be bad for one’s health… and sanity.

Speaking of brainless jobs… I gave my dogs a bath last Sunday. They were PISSED, especially after I started locking them up in the garden to dry off. I think for once they actually felt that they were dogs, not pretend-humans. Anyway, they got over their bad moods when Dad had Marlyn (our maid) cook fried chicken wings. They were back to their old sweet AND cunning selves (not to mention sun-dried furs), trying to weedle chicken scraps from us. Well, they totally forgot they were given baths! LOL.

That’s it for now! See you.