Nikulas

Christina Nights is not a porn star, as far as I know. She is not even a person. It is an event that can be summarized as an all-out drop-dead drunkenness that does not conclude in regrets and sighing proclamations of “Never will I drink again!” early at noon the next day. This is one of my (together with my best friend) recent neologizing for this year. Christina Nights, I will reiterate this, is not inspired from a woman. Sure, there are women involved that certain night when the term is created. However, Christina is just the name of the venue. Christina is a village.

I just love how Christina Nights unfold. It is full of danger, it is taken with reckless irresponsibility (mainly encouraged by not being burdened with loaded responsibility). Empty fun is fittingly served. It is the no-holds-barred celebration of freedom highlighted by CENSORED. HAHA. Joking.

Maybe, this is just a withdrawal symptom. Believe it or not, for almost a month now, I was not drunk, not tipsy, not even pingis.

Sad state of mine, I craved for blogging and I am not even drunk or completing my thesis. The eagle-eyed knows my situation is at its most dangerous: blogging not out of anger, fanaticism or necessity. As of this writing, I write because of immense need to reflect. To be shaken with emotional instability is so not Jasper Nikki De La Cruz post-December 19, 2007 aftermath.

Can't help but to insert a popular Friendster artifact as visual reference.

It is impossible to complete a Christina Night without liquor, friends, strangers and a night without rain. Honestly, I am not planning to pull a Christina Night as of this moment or the near future. But tonight, I hope that when I wake up, it’s a Christina Morning: battered, exhausted, broken and totally worth it.