I've heard that a birth story sets the stage for someone's life. If that is so, I have one of the strangest...
I was due on February 6th, 1984... but my mother didn't go into labour until early morning on the 8th. It was 10 am or something, so when she came in ready to burst the hospital filled out my registration as born on the 8th. Apparently I was a bit of a handfull even in my bith story though as my mother was in labour for over 30 hours and I wasn't actually born until February 9th.
After a long, difficult birth where there were a few comlications my mom went into a mild coma for 2 days (there were no long term results of this, she's fine now, though reminds me what a bastard I was right from the start). While in the coma, the onus fell onto my dad to fill out my paper work, on which he wrote my date of birth as my due date, the 6th.
So when my birth certificate came it said I was born on the 6th. When my parents tried to correct it they discovered the only day they could have it legally changed to was what the hospital records say: the 8th. Needless to say they didn't pay to change my birthdate to another incorrect day.
And there you have it. My birthday remains, on paper the 6th of February, I was actually born on the 9th, and well, if you ask the hospital, they'll tell you I was born on the 8th.
The story is far better with my animated hand gestures and facial expressions, but you get the general idea.
What does this say about my life? My parents celebrate a false birthday like they celebrate the false me. The world (or hospital) has their own idea of when I was born just like they all make up various identities for me. I am very good at letting people see what they would like to see. And the 9th... my real birthday, originally only celebrated by a select few. I have told more people this story as of late and have chosen to do something with friends on the 9th this year. Does that mean something as well? Who knows?
Today is the 7th... the day between my three birthdays. Yesterday my answering machine, text messages, e-mail and facebook were flooded with birthday wishes. Some were surprises, some were genuine, some dripped "fuck you" and some were... something else. It's funny who comes in and out of your life throughout the years and how something as simple as a birthday can bring people out of the woodwork.
My current female companion got me tickets to see my favourite band. The concert is the 8th, my worldly birthday... who will I be?
My ex-fiancee called and wanted to take me out for dinner. I don't understand girls in the least.
The Queen of Spades wants to take me out this week to a bar. I said no... and even though she's not supposed to be working Thursday when my witch has organized an AIDS benefit and I will be at Joe Kool's... QoS assures me she'll stop in for a drink... wonderful. Suddenly I remember Halloween.
Cheers to birthdays!