Warning: The following post is emo. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.
‘Pain throws your heart to the ground. Love turns the whole thing around. No, it won’t all go the way it should. But I know the heart of life is good..’
It’s always gloomy these past few days. It’s perfect. For me, at least. I love gloomy days. Like when it’s morning and bright and cloudy all at the same time. It’s cloudy but you know the sun’s out, a bit shy, hiding underneath a blanket of grey. A slight drizzle may happen and that’s a treat.
If I were a day, I would be a gloomy day. Dull at a glance but comfortable. Never too bright but guaranteed to shine when it feels like it. I could either make you go out and have a leisurely stroll, or lure you to stay longer in bed and be lazy. That’s the word right there. Lazy. I’m lazy.
I’m lazy when I have to be. Or when the situation permits me to be. And it’s not a waste of time, in my opinion. Lazy time is also my time to recuperate and retrospect. I can’t always be busy. That’s just too boring.
02/04 – Central, Mandaluyong City
I almost got drunk. For the first time in a long time. I remember the very first and last time I REALLY got drunk. Wasted, I think, is how they call it. It was my first year in college and my cousin just broke up with her long-time boyfriend. She was depressed as hell. So alcohol in hand, she invited me and our Lolo (ah.. love is insanity) on a drinking session to get all her frustrations out. So it was me, depressed cousin, and Lolo. Cool crowd. Heehee. I got drunk and forgot that I had exams the next day.
So I woke up, groggy and hung-over and I still had to go to school. It still amazes me how I did it but I made it through exams day albeit numerous trips to the men’s room to throw up. I also noticed scratches on my arms. They weren’t painful, so that was a relief. A blur of memory reminded me that during my drunken trance, I leaned over rough concrete and belched out everything in my tummy that night. At school I threw up some more in between classes.
I miss that. Nowadays, I never truly get drunk. The best I can manage is to get tipsy because I still have to commute on my way home after booze sessions. I try to keep myself in check and leave a wee bit of presence of mind, just in case. Metro Manila isn’t exactly drunk-person friendly. Get too drunk and you might lose every valuable stuff you have with you – money, mobile phone, even your life if Lady Luck decides you’re too drunk for her to bother with.
So back to the present. One of our friends from college just gave birth to a healthy baby boy. We (the two of us who made it to the meet-up, that is) decided to drop by the hospital and give her and baby boy a visit. When we got there, however, we only saw the new mom. The doctors were running tests on baby boy because he had tell-tale signs of being a Lycan. Kidding. They were running tests on him to make sure he was in tip-top shape before he gets discharged from the hospital. Welcome to the world, healthy baby boy! You’re officially the seven-billionth-and-something person in the world. ^_^
After a few exchanges and picture taking, we headed to the fabled Central in Mandaluyong. I’m exaggerating.
It was my first time there. The facade of restos made a perfect camouflage to what lay beyond. A dark alley led to the back of the building as if to build momentum. We turned to a corner and there it was – shrouded in a fog of cigarette and sisig smoke, an oasis hidden in the midst of a concrete desert where drunkards and novice drinkers converged to perform the ritual of pouring, drinking, and smoking, without a care in the world. ‘Lose yourself!‘, it called to me. That’s exactly what I had in mind.
We settled down and ordered what we came there for – a pitcher each of Bad Girl, Bad Boy, and Bad Trip. Bad times three! Quirky names for drinks. I liked it. Heehee. It was a mix of alcohol (forgot what, vodka, maybe) and juice so it didn’t taste bad at all. We decided to start on the Bad Trip first because we were, well, bad trip. Kanpai! – to friends having babies, to friends who can’t make it, to long-distance relationships, to being single, to crappy jobs that allowed us to drink Bad Trip, to the pretty girl on the next table. We dared each other to have the ladies on the next table to light our cigarettes. I always lost. Torpe. In my mind I shouted, ‘See? This is how I lose it!‘. Yeah right.
Half-way through the third pitcher (Bad Boy), I felt the sting of alcohol overpower the sweet taste of juice. I dashed to the rest room and threw up. Hotdogs and nachos and all the ‘Bad’ I drank came out in a wave of brown slushy. Yum! I felt relieved and ready to drink some more. So I went back, took another shot, but figured the taste has become too revolting for me to swallow. All I could taste was alcohol and it made me want to throw up some more. I didn’t risk it and just sipped some water instead.
In my almost-drunken stupor I realized that time really flies. I thought of my best friend, half-way around the world, living her life, making new friends, speaking awesome Ingles. Who knew? I looked at the guy across the table – once a stranger, then a friend, then my best friend’s fiance, and now my drinking buddy. Who would have thought? Being reserved and slightly anti-social, I realized that I have made awesome friends. Despite not seeing them for months on end, the moments we share far and few in between, we value each other like family.
Thank heavens for friends. And Bad Girl, Bad Boy, and Bad Trip. Awesome.