The Badly Written Sitcom

It’s insane. It’s 3 in the morning, in my less than honorable job “writing” job, and I suddenly get the urge to look up old high school acquaintances in, of all things, friendster. I just find it a little off, since I never really liked high school, I pretty much disliked the majority of the people there, and I absolutely despise who I was back then. (Wow, this is shaping up to be an honest post.)

Who I was back then is pretty fucking far cry from who I am now. Then again, understand the roots. While the best friends I’ve made and still have I made in high school, truth is never really liked them all that much back then. Natural thing to hate being so confined in one place for 12 years of life. (Maybe why I can’t stay still anywhere for more than a few months.)

The school I came from was one of these old, oppressive, small town high schools that was more conservative and old fashioned than most Catholic schools I’ve heard about. (That explains how I’ve developed my distaste for authority figures.)

There wasn’t really anyone I could relate to in the majority of my life there. From my singular point of view, they were just really, really odd. Of course, not everyone saw it that way. The place, the entire population I thought, was just strange in its familiarity, their insistence for being ordinary often left me confused and not very sociable. Unlike the persona I carried during college, I was less accepting of what I didn’t fully understand. I held their simplicity against, as their simplicity was just too complex for me. They were wrapped up in the most inane things, excited about things that were, again from my own point of view, pointless. (Took me nearly a decade to fully understand what the hoopla was all about.)

When I met my friends, the ones I referred to earlier, I didn’t fucking like them either. I was content in my little social bubble, until they forced their way in. It would be years before I would appreciate that gesture, when I wasn’t so high strung and uptight. (And less of a “dork” and not quite the outcast.)

Now, apparently, I can’t find any of those people. Mainly because anyone that mattered to me are already on my contact list, and frankly, I couldn’t remember any of their names. I’ve been assessing my so called life recently, and after my little quest of high school personalities, smoking a cigarette at 5 AM looking at the slowly brightening sky, it just pretty much dawned on me. (Pun kinda intended.)

I fucking hate that place, and I not particularly fond of the people in that place either. I’m as indifferent to those jerk offs now as I was then, with a few exceptions of course. Maybe I’ve just been listening to too much of Kim Richey’s A PLace Called Home. (The song played in a Season 5 episode of Angel, after the one where Fred died. See, the inner geek never dies.)

I’m done there, and with them, long before I was actually done. Who I was then? Dead. For a long time now. Tonight was my last look back, and while the anecdotes from that time I’ll still use to entertain the people in my life now, I’m not particularly itching to relive all that. I understand now, but I still think it’s lame. (You go girl, err… boy.)

(Hi Ila.)

The
world is going to hell. Or the world is hell, depending on who you
ask. Either way, it’s not good.

Though
I’ve never been one to care for the world that is beyond my personal
geek revolution, being out in the open as often as I am it would be
very difficult to not see the sorry state the human drivel has
become. There’s this one incident that sparked this line of thought,
as I was heading off to work. Taking the usual van going to the land
of the bright lights from the south, we were stopped by a young
police officer who was, despite what most consider to be nasty
weather, doing his job and asked for the driver’s license.
Apparently, parading around picking up passengers in a vehicle
registered for private use only is illegal. So a crime was taking
place, and his strapping young lad, bound by duty, was going to make
an example of this scumbag. It didn’t happen.

The
driver babbled on about him and the cop being on some clique, and
even approached the beat cop’s superior officer about it. The older
officer then commanded the younger one to let the driver off without
so much as a warning. The driver then handed a fistful of coins to
the young cop who was still baffled by his own lack of power, and
drove off with a big, stupid grin.

Then
the train ride to work. As usual, seeming professionals are reduced
to savagery by the commute, and by this time I was sick and tired of
it. As I was getting off the tram, some middle aged fat guy blocked
my way in an effort to get on the train before all of us who needed
to get off at that station are able to do so. The dude just forced
himself in, not only hindering our passage, bu also managing to hurt
a bunch of people he doesn’t know in the process. Total disregard for
other people.

I
wasn’t going to take that lying down. I went on a verbal tirade,
attacking the old, plump bastard with words that possessed a tendency
to be frowned upon when used in public. Respect the elders my ass.
Where I come from, you earned respect everyday, no matter how young
or old you are. As I was on the escalator leaving the station, I saw
the guy, who was already inside the vehicle, staring at me and even
had the audacity to menacingly point a finger at me. The guy was being a total douche, and yet he was pissed at me for pointing out his royal douche-ness. Total fucking
bullshit.

In
this day and age when people are so morally corrupt, one can’t help
but strike back. Me, I’ve never been saint, and I am far from
perfect. I know I can be as careless and insensitive with my words
and actions more than occasionally. I sure as hell am not saying I’m
better than anyone else, but when I look around, I find it very
difficult to see anything but reasons to abhor my fellow man.

You
have people who lie and cheat, those who trample on everyone else’s
rights and cares just to establish their own, and they manage to
justify their acts as being the norm. Well, your norm sucks. Your way
of life is disgusting.

I’m
proud of my geeky ways, because frankly, being stuck in a world of
comic books, a world where right and wrong actually exist, listening
to punk music that scream out words that this society normally
doesn’t allow to be screamed even just to vent out the many
frustrations that are brought upon by everyday living, they’re all
such better alternatives to the fucked up world  everyone has to put
up with. Right now, I lack the insanity to do something to correct
this.

But
I swear, one day, maybe or maybe not me, but someone like me is just
going to decide that he or she has had enough of this shit and
decides to take out the trash pretending to be the human race. And
when that happens, I will be there.

And
I will be having one hell of a good time.

Second
weekend without alcohol, kids. And it was an absolutely good one.

First
off… consider the possibilities of an innocent game of nine-ball with someone
that’s relatively close to you and having it turn into a pseudo-quasi
philosophical debate, relating our playing styles to the way we handle life. Paeng
and I engaged in the seemingly low brow activity and ended up uncovering “Rene-ism”
and “Paeng-tology”. “Rene-ism” discusses the value of doing things at full
bore, with force, stopping at nothing to get what you want. “Paeng-tology”
walks the path of lesser resistance, opting to take the slow and sure approach
in doing things. It was enlightening. I lost the game… so I guess “Paeng-tology”
reigns, at least over the billiards table.

Then,
it was off to

Makati

with to visit the land that birthed what is now considered to be the legendary
webdate team… the group formerly known for being “Angels”. Being three of the
first ones to come along, that little trek brought upon memories galore and a
fresh new perspective on where we all stood as individuals and as a group. No “angelic”,
noble purpose, just three people who belong to a group of people who, despite
the conditions and circumstances during the time, loves and looks out for each
other. I also realized, after the three of us tried to list down as many “famous”
quotes from the team on a little blue notebook, that I actually am a part of
group consisting of the biggest smart asses on God’s green(ish) Earth.

A
couple of days later, for some reason, the little-over-a-summer long civil war
within the group apparently ends. And though it may not be noticeable with the
seemingly dismissive way I handle a lot of things, that fact made me very
happy. Happier than any of them could ever imagine.

Remember,
I was already out there being an actual teacher, something I really loved doing.
It takes something really huge and important to make me leave that. Here I am.
And here we are, apparently. Let’s make more memories for the next time I
decide to take another stroll to another one of our haunts.

(Anyone
who calls me emo because of this post gets a particularly nasty surprise.)                

Just
when I thought all the challenges are done, new opportunities to fuck up
present themselves.

Now
that I am sober, I truly feel old. Especially after seeing a group of drunken
college students stumble all the way home on an early Sunday morning. “That
used to be me” I thought. Ugh. Pathetic. Also, I’ve got these feelings that I
usually managed to control because of my constant inebriation. Without alcohol
to sedate me, I now come with a wide range of emotions for all occasions. Never
knew I was that angry, or afraid.

Reality bites, yeah?

As
corny as it sounds, I may be on the verge of another one of those failed
romances. I’m doing the hopeless nice guy bit again. Balls. I guess it’s a good
thing, especially the whole “I’m getting married on November” bullshit just
recently ended. Then again, a month isn’t as recent as it seems. Who knows? I
may be on another romantic comedy adventure soon enough.

I
totally miss getting drunk.

I’m
stretching the creative muscles again. New pet project. This should be fun.

I’ve
been watching a lot of “Entourage” lately. Just saying.      

I
need a vacation. Somewhere new, somewhere fun, somewhere else.

I
realized that I’ve finally come around to accepting the fact that I’m no a
college student anymore. Three years after graduating. Better late than never,
I guess.

I’m
off the hooch and the “Ed Stevens” kick… time to move on to new vices.

As
Jeff said… “Wait… You gave up drinking?!? Jeez… That’s
like Batman selling the Batmobile or Superman wearing kryptonite
around his neck calling it BLING.” Don’t
worry SosoJeff, I’ll still be able to join you guys in bars, but
guess who’ll be drowning on iced tea?

Yeah.
I did. And I just went through my first alcohol free weekend in
several years. And frankly, aside from a few bright moments, i was
pretty damn miserable. I’m just glad I was among good company.

The
weekend was spent pretty much with me going back to my roots, tapping
into the spirit of my former self before alcohol and getting drunk on
each and every Friday and Saturday night became a staple. I stayed
south, with my two best friends, and played video games well into the
wee hours. Several rounds Marvel vs. Capcom ad Mortal Kombat:
Armageddon was a fine way of redirecting some of my pent up desire to
be self destructive. (Especially he way they owned my ass, and not in
a gay fashion. After all, these two are video game gods, and aside
from Smackdown vs Raw, they usually turn me into their personal
Playstation bitch.)

I
was a great right, of course, as three of us spent the weekend pretty
much by ourselves, something we rarely get to do. But of course, when
you’ve spent every weekend of almost a decade getting drunk and
stupid, the change of pace staggering. A Sunday without a hangover
and a new story to tell, once an unthinkable scenario, apparently is
going to be the norm from now on.

But,
I survived a week. That’s a good sign I guess.

I am a feather in the wind. I am a feather in the wind. I just keep telling myself that.

I’ve been a non-teacher for nearly six months now, and I really do miss working the classroom. I miss the students, and answering their silly questions. Now, here in cubicle-ville, I’ve got the warm comfort only tranquil routine can bring. No complaints, aside from the daily commute, particularly the everyday exposure to the symphony of smells that is the MRT.

I’m fast approaching my first weekend as a sober person, and I don’t know if I could make it through. I still get numerous invites to get hammered, and one of these days, my will power is going to falter.

Staying sober is but one of many things I plan to accomplish.

I’d like to speak frankly right now towards another person who I’m not particularly fond of. See, this person and I had a falling out recently, and it was nasty. But suddenly, the said person somehow develops the utter gall to come out and approach me (through the wonders of text messaging) to fix things. I can’ t really divulge the details of our little falling out, but people in the know know that this person tried in earnest to fuck up my life by spreading nasty rumors about me. The person learned a lesson or two about friendship, as my friends, the vast majority of them at least, recognize who truly was the victim in this scenario.

And you, evil person, should also learn a lesson about pride and responsibility. You fucked up, you fix things. That is how the world works, or at least the ideal one where people actually care about others. I’m not going to beg you to admit that you’re wrong, I understand enough about your warped perception of reality to actually expect that, but please don’t try to pass yourself off as the mature, responsible adult by trying to mend fences with half-assed attempts. Your boy don’t play that.   

I’m not self-destructive anymore. So that means people like you no longer have a place in my life.

And on that note, I’d like to announce that I’m looking for Eraserheads bootlegs. Heard there were awesome ones floating around cyberspace. Hook me up, please. Also, guys, don’t use the comments and testimonials section to post ads. It’s just plain rude.