It’s Christmas once more, and it’s just so different from previous years. Then again, my previous years’ weren’t really anything like my schooling days’, either. 2003’s was my first bookout from Tekong, 2004’s was just a break from the dreary routine of work in camp.
And on 2005’s Christmas, I find myself groggily waking up in Xianna’s flat after a great Eve Dinner, where I drank a little more than usual and experienced for the first time my closest encounter with loss of sobriety. Tumble out of bed (the sleeping bag, rather), check email, etc… Not quite the Christmas I’m used to.
The streets are empty and the shops are closed. It’s a marked contrast with Singapore, with its bright lights and bustling walkways. Everyone’s home for Christmas, and here I am. With friends, yes, but somehow, things are still different.
I still have a pile of unwritten cards, and sometimes I wonder why I bother with this annual tradition. I often just blank out when trying to write them, and it’s not that I have nothing to say to people (or maybe I don’t?), it’s just that when under the pressure to complete a card by a certain deadline (which I’ve already missed for most of my friends), I often don’t write anything meaningful. But the people I write cards for, (usually) are people I really want to say nice things to. So somehow, I just end up giving crap cards. With good intentions.
I think it’s also because my horde of old cards is still back in Singapore, so I haven’t been able to reread them and get into that nostalgic mood.
All in all, it just doesn’t feel like Christmas, somehow.