Hay Pasko

For quite some time I did not want to recognize that it's already the Christmas season. Of course with all the lights and gaudy, tasteless, and ridiculous decors all over the city, one cannot avoid it forever. Christmas songs are also inevitable - they're bloody everywhere - they make me want to puke my guts out everytime I hear one.

All right, all right, I should respect the way people celebrate Christmas. In a society and culture that consider Christmas as the highlight of their miserable lives, I'll just have to live with all the merry-making. Some fun would not hurt. I'm not going to rant anymore about the flagrant commercialism and the hideous hyporcisy all over the place. I know it's the time to be jolly falala, lalala... Sigh.

Starting last week, some people at the office were frantically giving boxes of food as gifts. It's pretty, all those sugar nicely packed with ribbons atop for added effect. My drawer is full of those things and I hope I can devour all of them today. I'm so obese, I know, but I love pastries. I can eat pastries for the rest of my life and not complain.

I'm sure people assume that everybody loves Christmas, hence the massive gift-giving exercise. So the gifts are definitely a welcome delight. It's nice to be on the receiving end, but the guilt is there. Being a non-believer of Christmas I'm uncomfortable receiving these stuff. I'd feel very hyporcritical especially because I don't find any sense in all of this. So when some box lands on my table I smile (ay pout pala) and say thank you with utmost sincerity. It's the best I can do.

Later today our office would have its Christmas party. I'd do my routine for the games thing where we carry briefcases for the Deal or No Deal kabaklaan (which I don't have any idea what it's all about because I haven't seen it on TV). I'd sit down. Eat. Smile. Pout. Camwhore. Drink. Get wasted.

On Christmas eve, I'd be alone in the mountains.