December 2001

(Day after Christmas, 2001)

It becomes easier to let happiness rub on you, whether it is hollow, profound, feigned or real. December is the least cruel month. Perhaps this is the month I mostly enjoyed this year.
I’ve caught that rhythm I needed to acquire for work. Although it will become tedious and demeaning (which is the natural tendency for all occupations,) work has been quite pleasant. Being in the chat support has made the task less stressful. I can listen to my growing chill out play list, and thousands of MP3s from the company’s shared drives. I’ve adjusted to this less conventional routine of working at night. What makes December more rewarding is getting greener pastures --- bonuses and premium holiday pays (since we have to work even on holidays.) I’ve bought myself my whims and caprices, and I am wary of my attachment to money and material things.
And of course it is not wealth that makes thing wondrous --- it just meets a primary necessity to afford certain comforts.
It is something else that gives this month a more mirthful tinge. it is a delight to the senses: to feel the delicate, cool breeze of December nights, to see the city glow with lanterns, and bulbs dancing on each house and each street. Even the tall buildings of Ayala seemed less mundane, more compassionate to its dwellers. It makes your walks along high rises more alive, less redundant. It seemed that even these cold, unfeeling stones may be bestowed with spirit. A child would look up, point a small finger and watch this dazzle with entranced eyes. And of course there are smells of gift wrappers, ham, baked chicken, newly open gifts, the perpetually delicious food that comes from treats. As always, life comes with a soundtrack. Only Christmas carols never get gasgas.
Moreover, everybody (at least temporarily,) is kind and festive. Everybody boards the auto-pilot flight of kindness and festivity.
I didn’t get to spend Christmas with my family but I just didn’t sulk. I had my time for myself, of course, during Christmas day, listening to Schopann, lighting candles, burning oils, reading and watching the thin branches of the trees sway with graceful gait against the purple sky. I wish the weather can always be like this – when its more conducive to have coffee because its strong aroma rises in the air.
Despite the fact that I can’t go out during weeknights, I usually make it point to suck the marrow out of the weekends. It’s the time to get all boozed up, and live out your life during a Saturday night. Beautiful women clad in less and less clothing is a site you’ll never grow weary of.
Friends and cousins met a group of girls and they all fancy going to this club in Libis. Dancing for me though, remains out of the question. Nonetheless, it’s always fantastic to drink and watch. It’s a little like sitting down in Classmate: the most cozy, comfy and most classy dancing show I’ve ever been. You get to sit in huge couches and be served by waitresses in micro-mini school uniforms, watch under-or-barely18 dancers who really look like your classmates.
Another activity I look forward to during weekends is biking during late afternoons during sunset or early mornings during sunrise. I go biking along the streets of Malate, Roxas, and around CCP. I make stops at the Film Center, the Trellis, to watch boats sailing, the sunset, the sunrise, and smell the sea. It brings a relieving comfort, to think that you are flexing muscles. It’s amazing to find the uniqueness of images in those places, watching shadows move under the trees, and staring at the open horizon of the bay.
And of course, I still find time to date myself to fancy dinners or cater to my cravings.
What a month this has been. I barely noticed how I conquered such joy, to begin to dream again… to start off with simple dreams. I’d like to travel to go to fantastic beaches, drink beer by the beach, listening to something from Café del Mar. I’d like to go around bars and dinner places and yacht clubs and strip joints. I’d like to take a long trip that would in effect be soothing. I can already hear the waves crashing and washing their hands. I can see the aureate gleam of the sunset and feel the sand on my feet.
This year’s Christmas greeting goes: “I’d just like to remind you that after the yuletide celebrations, life reverts to normal. Merry Christmas anyway. Whether feigned or real, let the happiness rub on you.” I let the happiness rub on me. Nothing lasts, I know. But I’m happy while it lasts, just before it all inevitably decays into sentimental rubbish.