At 10:30AM yesterday, Floyd and I decided to head up to my condo's penthouse/roofdeck and take the plunge. Ohc'mon! Not that kind of plunge from the roofdeck!!! *gasp* I meant a plunge in the condo pool.
So without even bothering to shower (ahehehe), I fished my technicolor tie-dyed beach towel from its hanger, grabbed my keys and mobile phone, and dashed to the elevator to go upstairs. In no time, we were shivering due to the cold, exceedingly-chlorinated pool water under the glorious morning sun (thank God for that tall building that blocked the blistering heat!) and the gusts of chilly wind.A couple of minutes later, our quiet morning was invaded by little screaming Filipino-Japanese kids named Sato and company, all children of tenants of the same floor I lived in. Instantaneously, Floyd and I turned into Tatays and Daddys (especially to the little cute girl with the runny nose) teaching them how to swim (which was ironic, because Floyd doesn't know shit about swimming, and I can't swim too well either). A couple of screams and giggles and leaps of faiths later, none of them learned how to swim. Why was I even surprised?
As I was drying up by the roofdeck, my mobile phone beeped. Sheila was already texting me confirming what we were to bring to her house for our New Year's Eve party: greens for the salad, fresh basil for the pesto, and all the spaghetti noodles we can muster to bring (later on, we ended up with none of these, and instead brought 2 gallons of ice cream [strawberry-flavored and chocolate-brownie-flavored], sugar cones, and a bottle of wine). When I told her that we were out swimming, she said that she was jealous that she couldn't do that right that moment, and so I promised her a weekend at my condo with her and the kids (which, I'm afraid, won't happen anymore, as I am moving out in a couple of days).
After almost not catching Rustan's supermarket at the Shang in EDSA, we headed for Sheila's apartment in Sinag. We were greeted with the maddeningly good smell of food cooking...and even better, by the smiles of Sheila's kids, and of Daniel and Sheila. We immediately exchanged gifts (I got her the Free Bra--those brassiere types that cling to your skin without the aid of a strap [freaky, I swear!]--and some cookies for the kids, while she gave me a Tarot Card reading set [a book, the deck, and a DVD to go with it]) and commenced our usual chismis sessions (hehe).
Dinner was great. Since Floyd and I were able to bring a couple of leaves of fresh lettuce from Tagaytay (courtesy of a friend), Sheila and I were able to whip up a quickie salad. She tore up the leaves, tossed in some nuts and chicken (I threw in some kiat-kiat [it's those teenie-weenie oranges that you buy at the supermarket packaged in nets] slices and croutons). I likewise concocted my own vinaigrette with a Pinoy twist: calamansi instead of lemon, and just a wee bit of patis. Wasn't exactly your gourmet dressing...but still served its purpose. Aside from the salad, we also had an amazing carbonara, honey-glazed ham, fruits, queso de bola, and some REALLY yummy cheese puto! Good luck on my so-called diet...which can wait 'til after New Year...or maybe even Feast of the Epiphany *heh..heh*
By almost-midnight, we popped open the bottle of red wine and poured each one a glass to drink. we took rounds in giving our "wishes" for each other for the new year. Their wishes for me, in a nutshell, were: (1) that I'd finally be with THE one to share the rest of my life with (that kept my fingers--and legs hehe--crossed, because I'm hoping for the same thing), (2) that I find happiness, and (3) trust and peace of mind.
In the almost 525,600 minutes of my year 2005, I can say that I totally deserved those wishes. In retrospect, I've had: (1) nearly six failed quasi-real to substantial relationships, (2) a gazillion blind/set up/anonymous/casual/inadvertent dates, (3) a handful of heartaches, and (4) bucketfuls of lies, untrustworthiness, unreliability, and false pretenses. Yes, I could use a fistful of all those three wishes. Baaaadly.
I guess you can say that I didn't really have a good year. Or did I?
If my 2005 was measured in all those failures, then, yeah...it was a really bad one. But if I flipped and tossed aside the pains and heartaches and lies and trust issues, and instead counted the learnings, the "additions" and blessings, it was a rather memorable year.
Sigh.
Here's a look back at my year that was.
Got back to work. Joined a truly positive and supportive team in the organization. Had a condo of my own (or at least that to my name). Became a Pope (OK, OK...just the namesake!) Lost two mobile phones. Fixed up the house in Bataan. Turned 29. Dyed my hair. Got broke as ever. Branded "Official Wardrobe Consultant" of the company. Started this blog, and earned a decent following (and a handful of antagonists, too). Got sick and hospitalized twice. Enrolled in a gym. Had a friend die on me. Started hosting for weddings as a sideline. Bought electronics, jewelry, and other high ticket items because of sheer boredom or utmost depression. Officially became a Divisoria hardcore. Watched marathons of movies and soaps and sitcoms. Joined a fashion show. Got almost-dragged in Pinoy Big Brother screenings. Recorded a song. Rubbed elbows with Imelda Marcos. Got my big bucks from my employeer in the US. Danced like nobody's watching. Made my family feel that they mean the world to me. And met Pink.
My work here is done. I mean, my 2005 is done. And I'm good. No regrets.
It's 2006, and so far, so good. Happy relationship. Good health. New laptop. Moving in a 3-bedroom condo of my dreams. Great friends still around. Supportive and loving family. Work doing fine so far.
Yep. we're good to go.
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