I’m sitting in a motel room, with 60s style marble floor, and hideously baroque-ish champagne-color drapes. There are 3 mosquitoes, which I have in the last 5 minutes, spotted circulating my area, ready to take charge at any sign of loss-caution. Outside, rain has finally stopped, but I’m not sure whether the sealed-in windows here are a blessing or a curse…the silence is deafening, the only sound heard every once in a while is of a mosquito or some kind of wasp who has lost his sight for one second, and therefore crashed, in what to me, is but a flickering sound, into the dreary blue lights of this dead-empty room.
I’m contemplating what my 24th birthday means to me, and I really can’t think of anything. I always thought working in a slightly noisy environment was quite more effective for me. Anyhoo, my 24th birthday might suddenly have meaning because THE world’s ROYAL COUPLE has chosen it to tie the knot…for all I know, if I were in England, I wouldn’t be bloody sitting 4 hours away from home trying to work out how to make badly-organized tourism stunts look good on television on my birthday. 24 is but a number, 24 is the point of reaching the top and is the moment of slamming into the bottom, 24 is me and I am 24…is today any less or more reflective of the fact that I’m any more mature and less prone to stupidities in my life? No…because it’s but a number, a motivation for people to believe that after a day that’s called your birthday, things might and could change for the better, that with age, comes perhaps more wisdom, more opportunities, more chances to not live the way you’ve wrongfully lived so many years before. The number means a lot this year though, because of those who treasure it, those who embrace it as a new starting point for me and for that I must say, it has become more than just a number, and I thank you for making reality a little bit less harsh. With love.