(Because I make it a habit to do an obligatory new year babble every, well, new year.)
I haven’t lit a firework in, like, two years. And I haven’t bought one for around that long as well. Too many cooks, I guess. And the fact that the really good ones cost upwards of I-don’t-want-to-spend-that-much-on-something-that-lasts-for-half-a-minute. Anti-altruism aside. And no, the possibility of lost fingers is not one of those reasons.
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I only have one resolution this year: WRITE MORE. And I intend to keep it. I just hope Walking on Alligators can help me out. The world either seriously needs more self-help books or writers, or I just haven’t read enough of them, or I’m just fooling myself with them.
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No jumping around, no round fruits, no polka dots, no money in pockets, no fireworks. Just sausages, sauerkraut, soft drinks and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.Yeah, my family’s past hipster-level jaded that way. Or lazy. Or tired. Either one of these ways works, I guess.
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People outside have their videoke turned up way too loud, as usual. Funny, though, how similar “Alone” and “If I Were a Boy” sound when it’s the same set of synthesized instruments playing the two very similar (or not) chord progressions. And I think at one point, somebody was actually drunk enough to try singing “The Jubilee Song” (OMG so last decade), but maybe I was just hearing things.
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Watched “Dogma” before media noche, for kicks. Funny how people had to do so many disclaimers back in the day, if they were planning on satirizing something like religion. Nowadays, people do it all the time, and nobody cares to disclaim anymore. But now I can’t decide who plays a funnier God: Morgan Freeman, or Alanis.
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In some corner of everybody’s minds, there is that question: “Who will be laughing last, us or the Mayans?”
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I think I need to smile more. But I won’t be making that a resolution or anything, because it’ll depend entirely on whether or not there’ll be things worth smiling about come 2012.
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“If there’s anyone in the planet who understands, it’s a fellow writer.” — CM Torrens
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If there’s one thing I’m pretty thankful for, it’s that the soot up here is not as bad a killer as it was back when I lived in Manila. Wait, so that’s several things: the location of our house, the fact that none of us have asthma, and the fact that people around here, despite still spending a huge load of cash on fireworks, don’t keep going for as long as some of the city folk do. Heh, city folk. Makes me feel like some sort of hillbilly.
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Some part of me says that this is just a poor excuse of a post, that these things simply sound like 12 crappy status updates. Another part argues that at least I’m concentrating my ranting narcissism into one piece of content, not spreading it around like bits and pieces of pseudo-profundity and making a mess all over so many other people’s Facebook walls.
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The people around me suddenly feel colder. Or less warm, whichever sounds better. No, I don’t think it’s the weather. Help me, Schopenhauer.
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I agreed to a total blackout until 2011 ended. Now what, I wonder.