Three more hours to go before a different kind of New Year’s Eve.
I won’t be having those sumptuous New Year’s resolutions for Media Noche. Not only are they high in cholesterol, but they also contain carcinogenic substances. Instead, I ordered a meager serving of self-forgiveness for take-out. Oh, and there’s this free contentment that comes with every meal.
Happy New Year to all.
Hopefully the Askal would taste better than the Andok’s.
My panic rides are starting to have scarier loops, drops and turns these past few weeks. No helmet and no seatbelt. F**k.
2006 is the Year of the Dog. They say that every dog has its day. I want mine seven days a week.
I told Ige this afternoon that his Christmas vacation at our house will officially end tomorrow. He then hugged me, whispered that he’s going to miss me and that he loves me. Although it was late and unwrapped, he gave me the best Christmas present I could possibly receive.
For the past six years, Ige has spent New Year’s Eve at our house because that’s the time we celebrate the holidays. Yesterday he asked me if he could spend it at his mom’s this year since the traditional Christmas gift giving of his mom’s family will be on the 31st. He also said that his cousins are coming over and he really wants to play with them. I said yes. So, my son will celebrate Christmas at our house. This is a first.
I still can’t decide where to stay on New Year’s Eve. A part of me wants to spend it alone at the apartment and the rest wants to be with that other part.
I think the cold air has gotten into me.
There will be no Pangasinan trip.
I can’t believe this. I’m too dismayed to continue.
Ukinam.
Christmas break. The campus is almost empty and silent. Most of the students are home by now making the most out of this short vacation (usually by sleeping, eating, sleeping more and eating more).
Upside: The shop’s Windang Mode will be off for a couple of weeks.
Downside: I have to pay the full jeepney fare since there is no student discount during vacations. Yes, drivers charge me with the student fare. Looks can really be deceiving. Hehehe.
I am looking forward to our family’s Pangasinan trip this week. It’s been almost three years since Ige and I last saw my father’s relatives there (ah, schedule conflicts— a single parent’s best friend). My visit this year will be a little different because both of my grandparents on my father’s side have passed away. But I’m sure that my very kind uncles, aunts and cousins would again make this visit a memorable one.
I’m still not sure where to stay after visiting Ige on Christmas eve. Maybe I’ll go back to the apartment and have a few bottles of beer then doze off in the middle of whatever’s on HBO or PBO.
Being alone doesn’t necessarily mean you are lonely. Sometimes we can be at our loneliest when we are in the middle of a crowd.
Fifteen years…
It doesn’t seem that long but it sure was overdue. For years I have been smoking my way through life. Since I started having this filthy habit, almost everything I did involved smoking a cigarrete. Leaving the house on cold early mornings during my high school days and then lighting a cigarette was such a bliss (I was smelling like an ashtray even before 6am). For recess, it’s a stick or two. Then a few more before, during and after lunch and some more whenever we have a drinking session after eating (which was almost everyday), and puffing a lot more after school dismissal and during evening drinking sessions (um, which was almost every night). Commuting home means smoking. I admit that I used to smoke inside public transportation during those times (but believe it or not, I tried my very best not to puff out smoke into people’s faces and noses and out the window instead, though I know that doesn’t justify anything). And yes, that last stick before I go to sleep. I smoked an average of two packs a day (and notoriously became the batchmate who never runs out of cigarettes). That was just high school. Need I say more about smoking during college?
I tried quitting a million times. Everytime I finish my supposed last stick, I get another one and break it into two. I can’t imagine how much I’ve spent just doing that stupid drama. But how can I quit that time? I smoked even before eating breakfast (hell, I also used to smoke even before getting out of bed). Studying (or something like it) in high school and college was impossible if I don’t have a nicotine fix first. Doing a number 2 is not the same without a good smoke and drinking sprees wouldn’t be complete without a pack of Marlboros (my one and only brand). And of course, during those times when I was musing (or should I say when I still had it), I would write, write, write with a pen on my left hand and a cigarette on the other. Sometimes I felt like I needed carbon monoxide more than oxygen. Oftentimes I felt like I was hopeless. I believe that smoking has already taken its toll on my body. And the sad part is that though I was hospitalized September last year (and started having this panic anxiety thing), I still continued to smoke.
One year…
It doesn’t seem that long but it sure feels great. Liberating actually. It was the 5th night of December. I can still remember myself smoking that last stick. The morning after that, it just happened— I finally quit. And I hope that this one’s for good. Many people find it unbelievable (and almost impossible) that I quit smoking. My sentiment exactly. And everytime a friend would say that he or she will never be able to quit, I just tell them, "I did. Why can’t you?"
Veni Vidi Vici. We all know this famous line of Julius Ceasar. This can also be found on the coat of arms on a pack of Marlboros.
Here’s mine: I smoked. I quit. I conquered.
