Saturday, December 31, 2005
last day of the year
I'll be glad when this wretched year is finally over. It has been the hardest and longest year I've known. Too many disappointments, failures and heartaches. Bring on 2006! It can't be any worse than 2005. I can only hope it gets better. Don't know how much more of this I can endure.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Christmas blues
Some days it feels like I might be able to dig my way out of this interminable darkness that surrounds me. While other days, like today, I find myself sinking impossibly deeper and deeper into this cesspit of despair. I have lost my job. And I have lost the man who meant the world to me. What is there left for me? I am defeated. Life has defeated me. The irony of that last sentence taunts me. The voice of reason tells me that I have to pull myself together and find a job soon but all strength and will have sapped out of my mind and body. I wish only the release of oblivion. Yet, I cannot take my own life. It is wrong. I have just enough sense to recognise that but not enough to stop wishing it.
We had the loveliest Christmas celebration together. Christmas carols, mulled wine and minced pies at the Hong Kong Yacht Club on Christmas eve, followed by a quiet Christmas dinner at my place. Tasty herb chicken from the Taste store in Kowloon Tong, Shepherd's pie, wild rice and vegetables. A modest feast made grand and festive by the flickering light of candles and flashing Christmas lights. After dinner, we sat down to watch the classic "A Christmas Carol". A tradition he used to observe on Christmas eve. Just before midnight, we hung up the stockings and he opened one of his presents. I had already opened mine before leaving for the Yacht Club - a musical penguin that sang and tapped its webbed foot to "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town".
Half an hour later, we climbed into bed, he exhausted from working through the previous days and nights on an assignment for a Masters course he's taking (who sets a submission deadline for the last day of the Christmas holidays?). He then read out loud Clement Clarke Moore's "The Night Before Christmas" which he had pulled off the internet just moments before.
I didn't get much sleep that night. Partly thanks to the raucous cheers coming from a party in a neighbouring building. Partly, I was wondering what to do with the stockings as I hadn't gotten anything to fill them with and I was too old to start believing in Santa Claus. And then, I started to fret because I hadn't left out the milk and cookies for Santa Claus! I drifted in and out of fitful sleep until I was rudely awakened by a slap in my face. He was tossing about more than usual and delivered a well-aimed punch in his sleep. Very carefully, I eased myself out of bed to use the bathroom and eased back in. The muffled springing of the coils roused him from his sleep. Moments later, he crept out of bed. It must have been a quarter to five. I lay in bed determined to get some sleep but the quiet rustling of plastic and paper outside made it difficult. Forty-five minutes later, he climbed back into bed and I stirred as if awakened by the jostling. He explained that he'd had a bad tummy. We chatted for a bit, discussing my negligence over the milk and cookies and wondering if that would've put Santa off. I got up as if to use the bathroom again and he called out to check if Santa had already been. I exclaimed at the sight of the stockings on the floor, bursting from all the goodies crammed inside. We grinned at each other excitedly and began pulling goodies out of our socks one by one. Next, we tackled the presents under the tiny foot-high ornamental Christmas tree, letting out appreciative "oohs" and "aahs" with each unravelled gift. Among my loot, "The Birds of Hong Kong and South China", A Marks and Spencer collection of Raymond Briggs' "The Snowman" Christmas cards and best of all, a powerful but portable JBL speaker for my iPod! It was perfect.
It was after seven when we climbed back into bed to catch a few more winks before going to Christmas mass. We cuddled up close and fell asleep almost immediately. An hour or so later, I woke up a second time and got ready for church. In the bathroom, I was seized with a coughing fit and felt a sharp stabbing pain in my lower back. I had pulled a muscle. I hobbled painfully back to the bedroom and gingerly lowered myself onto the bed. He was alarmed at my suddenly altered condition and hastily helped me into bed. I lay helplessly in bed as he tried to get me into a comfortable position to take the stress off my lower back. He massaged muscle rub into my back and deciding that I needed to get my muscles to relax, we settled in for another nap.
We made bread to go with our Christmas dinner leftovers for lunch. I forgot one ingredient. I was sure it would be a disaster but apart from being a little too crispy on the crust, it was fine.
He left after lunch to return to the blasted assignment that was putting such a strain on him and a damper on the holidays. I remained in bed the rest of the day. The celebration was brief but it was the best Christmas I'd had in Hong Kong. And possibly the last.
We had the loveliest Christmas celebration together. Christmas carols, mulled wine and minced pies at the Hong Kong Yacht Club on Christmas eve, followed by a quiet Christmas dinner at my place. Tasty herb chicken from the Taste store in Kowloon Tong, Shepherd's pie, wild rice and vegetables. A modest feast made grand and festive by the flickering light of candles and flashing Christmas lights. After dinner, we sat down to watch the classic "A Christmas Carol". A tradition he used to observe on Christmas eve. Just before midnight, we hung up the stockings and he opened one of his presents. I had already opened mine before leaving for the Yacht Club - a musical penguin that sang and tapped its webbed foot to "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town".
Half an hour later, we climbed into bed, he exhausted from working through the previous days and nights on an assignment for a Masters course he's taking (who sets a submission deadline for the last day of the Christmas holidays?). He then read out loud Clement Clarke Moore's "The Night Before Christmas" which he had pulled off the internet just moments before.
I didn't get much sleep that night. Partly thanks to the raucous cheers coming from a party in a neighbouring building. Partly, I was wondering what to do with the stockings as I hadn't gotten anything to fill them with and I was too old to start believing in Santa Claus. And then, I started to fret because I hadn't left out the milk and cookies for Santa Claus! I drifted in and out of fitful sleep until I was rudely awakened by a slap in my face. He was tossing about more than usual and delivered a well-aimed punch in his sleep. Very carefully, I eased myself out of bed to use the bathroom and eased back in. The muffled springing of the coils roused him from his sleep. Moments later, he crept out of bed. It must have been a quarter to five. I lay in bed determined to get some sleep but the quiet rustling of plastic and paper outside made it difficult. Forty-five minutes later, he climbed back into bed and I stirred as if awakened by the jostling. He explained that he'd had a bad tummy. We chatted for a bit, discussing my negligence over the milk and cookies and wondering if that would've put Santa off. I got up as if to use the bathroom again and he called out to check if Santa had already been. I exclaimed at the sight of the stockings on the floor, bursting from all the goodies crammed inside. We grinned at each other excitedly and began pulling goodies out of our socks one by one. Next, we tackled the presents under the tiny foot-high ornamental Christmas tree, letting out appreciative "oohs" and "aahs" with each unravelled gift. Among my loot, "The Birds of Hong Kong and South China", A Marks and Spencer collection of Raymond Briggs' "The Snowman" Christmas cards and best of all, a powerful but portable JBL speaker for my iPod! It was perfect.
It was after seven when we climbed back into bed to catch a few more winks before going to Christmas mass. We cuddled up close and fell asleep almost immediately. An hour or so later, I woke up a second time and got ready for church. In the bathroom, I was seized with a coughing fit and felt a sharp stabbing pain in my lower back. I had pulled a muscle. I hobbled painfully back to the bedroom and gingerly lowered myself onto the bed. He was alarmed at my suddenly altered condition and hastily helped me into bed. I lay helplessly in bed as he tried to get me into a comfortable position to take the stress off my lower back. He massaged muscle rub into my back and deciding that I needed to get my muscles to relax, we settled in for another nap.
We made bread to go with our Christmas dinner leftovers for lunch. I forgot one ingredient. I was sure it would be a disaster but apart from being a little too crispy on the crust, it was fine.
He left after lunch to return to the blasted assignment that was putting such a strain on him and a damper on the holidays. I remained in bed the rest of the day. The celebration was brief but it was the best Christmas I'd had in Hong Kong. And possibly the last.
