Indulgence

becoming a goat

Julian Fellowes
One of the freedoms of growing older is that one is no longer obliged to dislike someone simply because they dislike you.

Today, I woke up early (considering I was bleeding-assed drunk last night and danced for 2 hours straight) and went to the office before noon. I then bought the materials for my costume for the Christmas party. Our Christmas party at the office is always a costume party and our theme for this year is Disney characters. My original costume was to go as a Dalmatian.

Well, I really wanted to go as the 101 Dalmatians. I'd have 100 stuffed Dalmatian toys strung up together like a whole flock following me after, and I, dressed as a Dalmatian myself, fancied myself as a sort of Pongo (without a Feline, *sniff* *sniff*) (side note: Feline is the name of the lady Dalmatian, right?). Anyhow, it was going to cost me 110 pesos for 1 tiny Dalmatian stuff toy and for me to get 100 would mean I'd end up paying 11,000 pesos for my costume. It would have been a riot, but unfortunately, I'm not that rich. If I was loaded with cash, hell, I'd do it. I want to see the whole effect. I could always give the toys away to street kids or donate them to an orphanage or something after. But I don't have 11 grand just lying around, you know?

On the way down from Baguio, I got a call from my friend Berna. She's going as Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame so she told me I should go as her goat. Hence, buying white fox fur fabric and wire and black crepe paper, 2 and a half hours of this day was spent becoming a goat. I even have the goatee and all. Pictures to come when I get them. This is bound to be a blast.

Making the costume, I realised that I was never really good at crafts. It was never my specialty. I was never really good with my hands. I remember bringing all my materials to school and working on whatever it was we had to do -- lampshade, basket, shorts, whatever. I was never really good at it. They were bound to make me fail. So, three or four days to submission, I'd hand over whatever it was I made and gave it to my Yaya (Nanny) or my Dad's propsmen for the movie (who was staying with us). They salvaged whatever tragedy I had already begun and managed to submit something that got me a passing grade. I remember always leaving them instructions: please don't make it work, don't make it look good; it has to be believable that I made it! Ah, yes! The days of Home Economics and Handicrafts. I am so glad that is over.

I was never really good with my hands. Handicrafts of any kind? Forget it! I can't draw to save my life. I was never really good at shooting -- no matter how hard I aimed, I could never hit my mark. The only thing I was good at, when it came to my hands, is typing. I could type super fast. Like, really, super fast. Yeah! Hurrah. I could be a secretary. Or a stenographer.

I suppose my skills and talents really are more in abstract thinking -- telling stories and fabricating them. Yeah, pretty impractical talent, I must say. I think it's essential. We need our stories. We can't survive without it nor can we function properly in its absence. By nature, man is a story-telling creature. But nowadays, the telling of stories, be it fiction or through the media or whatever form it may take, requires a lot of skill and talent. But it's the only thing that comes easy to me.

So what other choices do I have?

posted by wanggo @ 6:01 PM