Pushing For a Quiet One.

Among so many things, all I want for my 21st birthday is just a quiet one. This doesn’t mean I won’t have a drink or two—legally. I can go to Vegas when the time fits me. I won’t just be 21 and legally able to drink for one day or a weekend. I have the rest of my life to drink to my liver’s content. I can decide to live up Vegas like it’s my birthday in the middle of July if I wanted to.

What if all I want is to enjoy myself this year? A small dinner with my family at whichever exotic restaurant my parents are dying to try. A quiet night with my boyfriend watching movies that nobody has ever heard of while drinking warm milk and honey. A fancy dinner with my friends in LA so we can finally all dress up together. This year is going to be less stressful with much more smiles, food, and beer.

I Am From

I am from a place where the most of my worries revolves around what time the ice cream truck is going to come by my house. A place where the one moment I hear the cheery jingle “The Entertainer”, my number one priority is to run out as fast as I can and to decide whether I want the Spiderman Popsicle or the orange flavored Flintstones push pop.

A place where the sweet smell of Jasmines evoke the most comforting feeling in the world. A place where on the warm summer nights, we would take walks around the block and secretly pluck the neighbors flowers to put in grandma’s closet.

A place where that stupid stray cat with the floppy ears always followed me around. A place when I spent countless hours playing with roly-poly bugs in the backyard.

When grandma used to make us different outfits with the same fabric. We walked around like the world was ours. You were jealous of my shiny red Barbie convertible that dad had gotten me, and I enjoyed prancing around flaunting it in your face.

When we would have bloody brawls in the living room over who got to be Baby Spice or the Pink Power Ranger. Or whenever Christmas came around we would play the same Christmas cd, the one with the red and yellow Keith Haring art on the front. We would act out skits to each song as if we created them.

Then came the phase when I was completely obsessed with my Tamagotchi. Then the time when you dropped it in the toilet and I swear my life had ended.

I am from a place where every summer for 5 years, we would find a way to go to the Vans Warped Tour. That one summer where we got lucky with backstage passes and I attempted my first crowd surf—unsuccessfully.

Where the smell of stale cigarettes made me more calm than anything else. Where I got my first taste of bitter cheap beer and alcohol that seemed to sear into the back of my throat all the way down to my stomach. Where the mere feeling of romance no longer sent a raging gag reflex up my throat.

I am from a place of cool summers and warm nights. Where being a glutton is okay and being a happy glutton is ever better.