I NORMALLY don’t write about myself because, frankly, I lead a rather boring life. Really. My family and friends can attest to that. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It’s a matter of choice.
You see, I’m a creature of habit.
I always tell people that if someone wants to do away with me, it won’t be that hard because I go through the same routine every day.
Back when I used to drive to work, I followed the same route day in and day out. One time, I had to go somewhere else but I had a momentary lapse in concentration and before you know it, I was headed to the office on P. del Rosario St.
Maybe it’s because I have worked there since October 1997. Not always full time, mind you. I resigned back in 2004 because I thought I was going to a culinary school only to end up at a newly opened film school in Mactan back in 2006... or was that 2005... but I still worked there part-time. Even when I directed a morning show at a regional TV station or served as a consultant for the governor.
I had other job opportunities but these were in Metro Manila. Oh don’t get me wrong, I love the capital. I have so many great friends there. But just don’t ask me to actually live there.
I was even in Singapore about to start work as an assistant director for a show for the national public broadcaster but decided to go home to Cebu 10 days later after suffering from a gout attack.
Trust me, limping along Orchard Road, wincing in pain and being 80 pounds overweight was enough to convince me to fly back. Who knew what would have happened if I had stayed?
But then there’s really no point of dwelling on the “what ifs.”
You see, once I make a decision. I stick to it. Even when I realize I made a mistake. Not because I am stubborn but because I believe in facing up to the consequences of my action.
Recently, I was informed by my doctor that I have a slight heart condition. Right now, it’s nothing major. But if I didn’t change my lifestyle it could get worse. At least, that’s what she told me.
And who am I not to believe her? She is the doctor, after all.
That would mean I’d have to quit drinking. Every night. Which I have done since 1994.
I tried to bargain with her while the song “It’s Impossible” played at the back of my mind. Imagine telling the sun to leave the sky or asking a baby not to cry. Then I had this epiphany.
“You know what,” I told her, “the year is almost over. I may as well finish it the way I started. But come January, we’ll see how it goes. Okay?”