I just found out I rarely write about my birthday on my birthday, and of the three references to this event on this weblog, only one was actually written on the exact date. And it didn’t make much sense, much like this one.

On the eve of my 28th year of existence, we were just about to disembark from the Mindoro–to–Batangas ferry when Joey realized it was just a few minutes after midnight — it was now the 5th of March, my birthday. He quickly noted: “Being caught on the road on the eve of your birthday can only be good: it means your life is moving forward.”

I’m not sure it makes sense. In our eternal pursuit of happiness, most of us manage to romanticize our stories of melancholy just a little too much for our own good. We build our little castles of joy, unaware of the pits of sadness we’ve long ago taught ourselves to ignore.

Now I’m talking more nonsense. Let’s go grab a beer; let’s share a smile. Even just for tonight.