The Badly Written Sitcom

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.
   

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.

      I feel for you Ed. I really do.

      Today’s post is not about my usual musings, but more of a response to a recent event that happened to two friends of mine who had a perfectly good thing going (on the surface at least) then pretty much crap on it. Now, I’d like to clear one thing up, I don’t know all of the details, I only know one side of the whole sitch, and I’d also like to point out that I’m not angry (not that me being angry would actually matter).

       Fuck that, kids! What is up with everyone trying their absolute best to piss on things that matter?  Sunday morning, I come visit a friend only to be the to be privy to one of the biggest atrocities one can do to another.

      You cheated my friend. And I’m not judging you or anything, and I’m sure you may have reasons as to why you committed that act, you still fucking cheated. No matter how you look at it, it’s still wrong. You cheated, and I would understand why someone would cheat on an unappreciative, undeserving asshole or bitch, but you weren’t exactly with someone even remotely unappreciative or undeserving now were you? You cheated on someone you was with you through all that shit all throughout the drama that’s been going on in your life for the better part of a decade.

     And this is something you can’t take back.  There is no  way you can possibly make up for this.  You can try (a decent person should)  but don’t think you’d have a shot at even being close to doing so.

     This is the second time you’ve pulled this crap, and I’m sorry, but you’re not the one who’s around to have to look at the person and try to mend together the remains of that person’s shattered heart. And you’re pretty damn lucky you’re my friend too.

      Whatever. Walk away. Please.

This past weekend, I was supposed to attend my second ever fete de la musique. See, the first time I attended the annual event, the night produced a bunch of laughs and scenes involving a stranger, a pervert, a pissed off boyfriend, a drummer that made hasty decisions, an old friend, an unexpected kiss, and a lasting image of irony. That was two years ago.

Being a person in dire need of such a night and an overwhelming desire for live rock music, I was more than psyched to attend, even if I had to go alone, for a little shit-faced serenity. You know what stopped me? A broken door knob. A fucking broken door knob. I wont bore you with details (I have other ways of boring you.) but a broken fucking door knob destroyed my supposed awesome night. Not cool.

There’s a resulting general malaise within me for missing that event. Not to sound overly dramatic, but I sort of needed that night. Well, so much for needs then.

I’ve been getting a lot of comments that this “emo” phase I seem to be going through is becoming unsettling (translation: increasingly annoying), but I’d like to make a couple of points clear. One, I’m not going through an “emo” phase. Not intentionally at least. And two, I’m fine. I’m just going through a lot of weird transitory bullshit, but I still recognize that things ares till workable and that a lot of other people are going through a lot more complicated issues right now that are truly worth bitching about.

Like I told a lot of people… I’m merely assessing my life’s direction right now, considering I never planned to be at a point that my life actually would need direction. My eternally short term apparently is taking a long term course. But I’ll be 25 ’til January, so anything can still happen.

Right now, honestly, I’m dead inside. Again. I need to have life breathed into me again. Side effects of leaving the school setting, I know… should’ve been more prepared.

Aw hell.

My self imposed isolation
is yielding a lot of lukewarm results. My grand experiment is so far
a not so stellar work in progress. My attempt to bring a little
forward motion towards definition is going both ways, and whether or
not it’s a good thing remains to be seen.

Being back on the night
shift has been good for me, and facing certain harsh realities is
also good. But now comes the downfall of most best laid plans; human
emotion. I’ve always been a softie, despite always being the first to
point out the all too human weakness of actually giving a shit. We
have needs that need to be fulfilled, and some of those needs, sadly,
just have to involve other people. And since I’ve decided to leave
the people who could provide those needs and the very few people left
are either in no position or are seemingly unwilling to partake in
the goings on of my shitty little ordeal, I’m left with a few
options.

I’ve never been a
proactive guy, only playing the hand that’s dealt. That’s why up
until now I’m still bouncing from one place to another in complete
free fall, and I’ve decided to change that. But there are instances
that waking up alone that really blows. It doesn’t happen often, but
when it does, fuck all there is.

It’s that time again.
Time to test the fates by putting myself in situations that make for
awesome breakthroughs. I’m ready to meet people. I’m ready to mix it
up again. I ready to fall in love with and under the city lights once
more. Time to find the smile I’ve lost.