In the past, feeling blue before my birthday was a convenient excuse I made up so I can eat and drink as much as I want to. This year, my blues were real, age has been catching up on me and I had health issues to deal with. In a span of three weeks, two of my friends lost their mothers, and my master tailor of eighteen years, Mang Roger died four days after having a heat stroke. I was playing Ronan Keating's version of Won't Last A Day Without You on repeat mode for days, a feel good song that would hopefully lull me out of my melancholia. I didn't plan a big celebration, all I wanted was to hear Mass with my family and eat pizza, my birthday falling on a Sunday. Saturday before my birthday, a dozen of my closest trooped to Poppins, my weekend hangout, to cheer me at the stroke of midnight. Monday was dinner at the artsy new place Karnita's Corner with my dear friend Kasia Rei from Los Angeles who's celebrating his birthday two days after me. A joint celebrati...
by JC Buendia