PRE-CHRISTMAS SENTI

I am in a place flanked by Christmas decorations and surrounded by busy garble and Santa Claus music. There is a recurring pain in my back which this old swivel seat tries really hard to aggravate. I am cold and I am hungry. Add that to the fact that I think the red coat I am wearing does not, and mean does not, match with the pink and white striped knit blouse I have underneath.

My fashion sense is as fleeting as my recollections of a wonderland Christmas season. I remember how I was last year, on the eve of His birth. Everyone had gone home for the holidays and be with their families, while I stayed behind. Sulked. Refused to go home because of work and, more gravely, because I was scared to face my parents.

I was then a bearer of bad news. And I couldn’t muster the courage to go home and tell my mom and dad how naughty I’ve been the past year and how I absolutely DID NOT deserve cheer. Nor did I deserve gifts and warm food.

I can’t really discuss the details of what I did here. There are spies lying about. But it had something to do with me and the University I attended. Anyway, all is well now and I finally told them when I came home during the holy week.

But enough about that.

Last Christmas, I was all alone at the condo unit my friends and I shared along Katipunan. While everyone was busy preparing noche Buena, I was in a bare room, with cheap wine from the office giveaway basket and some luncheon meat. I didn’t really bother going downstairs to buy food. I knew I was going to call it an early night.

As if that wasn’t depressing enough, I didn’t even bother to call my parents. I didn’t want to suddenly burst into tears and end up pissing them off with my news. Hell no. That Christmas, I vowed to spread cheer around. Not my problems. Never my grief.

I called a friend who was planning to go out after the 12 midnight meal with some friends and asked if I could come along. He said he wasn’t really sure. I was becoming asphyxiated by the silence and the bareness of the condo so much I needed to drag myself out of there literally.

So I hailed a cab and spent about an hour touring the city, looking for bars that were crazy enough to be open on Christmas eve. I ended up at Hard Rock Makati. Alone. My friends texted me frantically with reminders not to look too friendly or gullible, sit in the corner and never make eye contact, or else foreigners would mistake me as a pick up girl.

When I got there, I sank myself into the corner seat close to the band and smoked to death. My friend, who finally decided to go out, followed me. But it was already 2am and I was starting to see dancing colors infront of me. I don’t really remember what I drank. And if my friend had been late a few seconds, I would have been approached by this porky looking guy who had been desperately trying to make eye contact the entire night.

At my near drunken state, I probably would have talked to him. Thanks to my friend who arrived in the nick of time.

But that was then.

This Christmas, though I don’t feel it this early on, I will be going back to Davao to see my family. I really don’t care if the people in the office think it’s unfair that I leave on the 23rd.

Once you’ve already tried spending the holidays by your lonesome, drunk and all, you’ll definitely kill just to make the next one right. And not even the hottest bozo in this place (who, by the way, thinks he’s so fucking great) can talk me out it.

And no, I won’t be drinking cheap wine this time. Knowing my family, there will definitely be lechon, lengua, ham, pasta, and all kinds of fruit on the table. And I will also be reunited with my favorite tokwa’t baboy from Davao Dencia’s Restaurant.

As for the important people I leave behind in Manila for a week, there’s always the phone. There’s also the Internet.

(drama ko talaga!)