The Badly Written Sitcom

The
following words are written  in the utmost seriousness, but I
wouldn’t be surprised when it’s met with more than a few raised
eyebrows. They would not be misplaced. But, I guess if I’m going to
commit to something, might as well put it into writing. I’m quitting
drinking. As in no more booze. Indefinitely.

I’ve
been drinking nearly everyday for the past decade. Those who know me
know that it’s not an exaggeration. I’m the guy that is usually the
first to raise the glass and most of the time the last person left
standing.   

My
love affair with alcohol started during freshman year. I wasn’t just
introduced to a brand new vice, but I was introduced to a lifestyle
that pretty much enabled me  to be completely me… if that makes
sense at all. Through out the years, I have accumulated a vast number
of stories hat basically start off with how drunk I was. Made all my
friends laugh.

But
now, over the weekend actually, I’ve come to realize that all those
little “adventures” had consequences, and I’m just blinded and
deafened by the smiles and chuckles that came along with every
retelling of a drunken episode of my life.

Through
my insatiable need for alcohol, I nearly lost a couple of the best
friends I’ve ever made and ever will make. One is through a seemingly
broken heart, the other through broken expectations. I’ve managed to
fix one (though she does make it a point to remind me of past
transgressions at every opportunity, not that I mind) while the other
seems to be a hopeless cause.

I
have no regrets, but I do carry the fear of not being able to resolve
those issues. I am not going to lose anyone else.

Of
course, drinking have made me a lot of friends, particularly in
college, but come to think of it, the nearly all of the best friends
I’ve had aren’t the ones that didn’t start off through a mutual
affection for the hooch. In fact, my drunken nighs have at times
caused trouble for those treasured bonds.

Let’s
not even get into the effects on my health, cause I don’t really care
about that. But, for the record, getting a heart attack, getting run
over three times, getting a blood pressure that’s through the roof,
getting a concussion and a host of other things due to drinking
doesn’t exactly spell out a good time. (Actually they do, depending
on how you look at it.)

One
aspect of my life that doesn’t necessarily get affected by drinking
would be my love life. It can get crappy all on it’s own, I’m proud
to say.

Frankly,
I’ve been making a mess a lot of times since picking the bottle. I
don’t want to make a mess anymore.

Let’s
see how the sobered up half lives.

If you’re going to be dumb, be tough. That’s what I learned this week, especially after watching Jackass number two. Truth is, I haven’t been doing so well the past couple of weeks, screwing up constantly and disappointing more people than I care to count. Sorry, people. Hope you understand. Being back to being a fuck up isn’t really as fun as it used to be.   

There have been a couple of setbacks endangering the fruition of my plans, but adapting and adopting are just two skills I’ve mastered over the years.

Wait, before I go off and start making sense, let me just say one thing to all of you people: The Simpsons movie is the absolute shit. Fuck Citizen Kane, man. Long live Homer.

Now, back to the regularly scheduled rantfest.

A certain someone has been trying to make a comeback in my life, and frankly, dude, just come back when you finally get it. There are just some things you are not going to accomplish by merely bitching.

Last week, I attended a supposed “grown up” party, and as the sleepless weekend continued, I surmised that there are only three things important in life. He essentials, if you will. Love, friendship and rock and roll.

Love seems to be the only thing lacking in my life right now. But an overabundance of the other two makes up for that lack.   

Now that I’m seemingly dead in the wear when it comes to my plans of change and progression, I’m having fun at the bloody least.

I’ve been seeing the sunrise more and more regularly. He sky can be a very beautiful thing once in a while.

There are a lot of things and people I miss these days, but I guess it’s just natural. Cutting my self off from some of the most important people in my life has been quite a learning experience. I also miss teaching, and learning while teaching. When I’m ready, I’ll be doing that thing I do in the classroom so well. When I’m ready.

There are some things I’ve learned to accept. I’ll never be rich and famous. It’s just not me. I’m not going to have an actual, normal, healthy relationship. Not any time soon, at least. I have a knack for getting myself in pretty stupid situations. It’s just what I do.

Now I’m back to living the life that I’m used to living, that homey feeling I used to have whenever I stepped into bars have been somewhat altered. I think it’s a greater sense of understanding, of both the self and the world around me.

I’m human, I’m fragile, and I’m downright idiotic. And the sun keeps on rising as pretty as it always has. Jesus, transition is a bitch.         

Don’t
believe the rumors. I’m not totally evil again. Long story.

Since
according to “reliable” sources, I’m a womanizer, I’d like to
take this opportunity to avoid the entire love topic altogether as
writing anything even remotely pertaining to that would be pointless,
pussy chasing scumbag that I am. OK, so since love stuff is a taboo
subject for now, and all of La Famiglia tales of mine has been
exclusive to the Hidalgo Boys account, (That’s hidalgoboys@yahoo.com
for those curious enough to check out pictures of me when I had
really, really short hair.) maybe it’s time for me to move on and
discuss present matters.

Those
in the know are aware that yours truly is back to smut peddling
during the night shift (as a result of, as Paeng claims, my close and
personal relationship with inebriation) and as I may have mentioned
before, it’s a nice change of pace.

Being
from the South, I already am more laid back than most people, so
being surrounded by people who usually spend their evenings in the
office, away from the perils of the outside world is cool with me.
Personally, I would hate the way my schedule pisses on my usual
weekend routine (and to those who know know how much I value my
weekends) if not for the individuals I’ve the pleasure of working
with for several weeks now. While the day-shift Angels are now
undergoing some sort of rebuilding phase (hopefully) the nights are a
different story. Aside from being reunited with a few old Angels,
I’ve made a few new friends as well, people who make me feel I’m out
of the “Ed Stevens” kick I had a year ago.

So
my Friday night drinking sessions have been converted into Saturday
morning beer-fests. No complaints. And now I’m starting to make sure
my Saturday nights live up to the Saturday nights of yore.

I’m
shallow, I know. Sue me.

But
I do have goals, you know. Come September, we’ll find out if I’m
successful in reaching them or not. In the meantime though, let’s
welcome back the old Rene. Hedonism kicks ass.

By
the way, happy birthday Ed. And Althea, I’m really excited to seeing
you and your homeland (?) soon.       

Recently,
I got this insect bite that got infected and I couldn’t walk and
shit. It blows on my part of course. Not just because I have a harder
time going to Ortigas, which is a ways away from the humble apartment
I share with one of those people that dragged me to the damned Ja
Rule concert, not just because I might have an operation because of
some teeny weeny bug deciding my ankle was a tasty treat, but mostly
because the good old doctor told me that I can’t drink. Maybe for two
weeks.

Two
whole fucking weeks. I’ll be sober for two weeks! Shit.

I
don’t want to sound like a compete alkie but come on! Getting
drunk from Friday to Sunday is my thing. You know?

Anyhoo,
on to the rest of the sitcom. I’m officially single now, and damn, it
feels good. Like I may have mentioned before, tis time, I’ll be
thinking of me for a change. I’ve spent the better part of last year
worrying about other people, so it’s time I logged in some major “me”
time.

Forget
Emo Rene, you wont be seeing that dude for quite some time.

I’m
freshly squeezed and ready to maximize my time now. (And once I get
clearance to drink again, oh boy! Watch out! No, I do not have a
drinking problem, thank you for not asking.) I can see clearly now,
now that the rain has come.

I
have been spending the past several weeks with a new group of people,
mostly the ones I work with at nights, and it’s very refreshing.
Falling in love again under the city lights, like I’ve been saying
all along.

I’ve
also decided to make up to those people I may have neglected during
the time I was doing that thing I was doing over the past few months.

We’ll
see. I’ve lived a little, loved a little, and got my poor heart
broken a little. Yeah, yeah, that’s the story of and the glory of
love. (Forgive if most of the material here are ripped off from
songs, it’s just that I just finished blogging for the Hidalgo Boys
account and I truly have a song in my heart.)

Little
by little, I’m getting out of this funk. And now that most of the
traces of my past life as good old Professor Cruz has been shed, I’m
deadly curious about the things that are going to happen next. There
are still a few villains out there that wont go quietly, but bring it
on I say! New day, and not quite new me. We’re all doomed far as I
see it.

Call me Mr. Brightside again, bitches.

Howdy
ho, bitches! Previously on The Badly Written Sitcom, I was on a
rant-fest about an unfaithful act done to one of my friends by
another one of my friends. I’m not in any confrontational mood right
now, as I’ve been in confrontations with crazy people the past couple
of weeks now.

There
are just some people who are unable to get over themselves to
actually see things as they truly are. It amazes me how some of us
are able to come up with so much bullshit. It astounds me how some of
us ending up totally believing our own bullshit.

Right
now, I’m besieged by a person trying to do a PR hatchet job because
of that’s person’s own fuck ups. Let me just say a few words to that
person. You may like playing the victim all the time, but my friends,
my true friends, know the truth, and they are not going to be won
over by tears and your warped perception of the truth. You made a
mess, and you’re unwilling to clean it up. So I’ll be doing the
cleaning up, you just stay the hell away from me, my home, my people
and my world until you manage to produce the humility needed to
recognize your mistakes. I’ll do what I need to do from my end.

Right.
Not in a confrontational mood. Great.

Moving
on, I had one of those “moments” while I was smoking the other
night. When you’re alone and looking at the dark sky at four in the
morning you tend to think about your life. Last year, I had the job
I’ve always wanted, in love and in a place I’ve always called home.
It was perfect. 

Right
now, like I mentioned a lot of times, I’m in a period of transition.
I have a job I moderately like, in a place that has brought me so
many bad memories, in hate. But truth is, I’m as happy now as I was a
year ago.

I’ve
got more than a handful of things to be thankful for. My friends at
work, though suffering a nasty falling out as we speak, is still more
comforting company than one could ever hope for. The state I’m in
now, one of constant change, is great. With the recent beak up, I now
again on a clean slate, personally and professionally. I’ve always
liked rebuilding, and undergoing that intimate brush with complete
insanity has been good for me. I’m new and improved. Again.

I’m
good, because of what my experience with my students and friends
taught me. I’m a bit evil still, because of what my recent activities
taught me. I’m whole.

And
nothing can mess that up. Try as some crazy people might.