Winning

At 14, I lost my mom and stopped celebrating my birthday. It was the time of the great downswing. Parties were nonexistent in the pecking order and hooverizing was the all-encompassing virtue. As if a consolation, the greetings were rather forced and devoid of affection. The day passed uneventful. Adolescence was a tough passage of rite and the idea of outgrowing it was fanciful.

At 16, in a Scarlet O'Hara panache, I was willful: As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again. It was the year of reconstruction, of overhauling - engineering my world domination plans. But something blotted the perfect landscape: family tension was growing. Had I been a weakling, my mind could have burst and turned me into a complete psycho. It was almost reminiscent of Prozac Nation, only I was so cool at handling it than Elizabeth.

At 18, I have mastered the art of desperation and making up appearances. You simply can not be powerless, you stir some sort of a je ne sais quoi air. You don't become a wallflower, you go to the dancefloor and shock the crowd. You embody Lady Gaga's bravura and Woody Allen's wit. In hindsight, I wasn't faking it, just making the most out of the mess.

At 20, the world was my oyster (or so I thought). Driven by knowledge and savoring my ivory-tower confinement, I decided to pursue my masters degree. It was the time of romanticism and Ayn Rand was my Deity. Manila, with all its beauty and viciousness, was a delectable maze to wander.

At 22, I was hit by the first love bug. I was naïve and just like a virulent virus, I led the relationship to its rather early demise. In a eureka fashion, I discovered I was stoic. Unmoved and unperturbed, life progressed on seamlessly sans any tinge of heartbreak. Stoicism, unbeknownst to me, would come handy in a series of love bugs to hit.

At 24, I became a citizen of the world. I had my first trip abroad and my longest plane ride to date. In the corporate jungle, I belonged to the Scythian tribe. Voracious and dominating, I hoarded Employee of the Quarter awards and squashed a pesky officemate’s dream. But the dog-eat-dog corporate world is not to be relished forever. So I quit.

At 26, the imposing zeitgeist was Bureaucracy. Suddenly, red tape and office gossip became staple, in-your-face occurrences. I felt my growth stunted, degenerated. Bureaucracy regressed my corporate citizenship. The Great Ennui was short-lived, though, until SO came into my life.

At 28? I know it will be only grand and victorious. And I have Charlie Sheen-crafted buzzword as my mantra: Winning!