USC, here I come!

Consolacion’s town fiesta took place Wednesday last week and prearranged was the outcome that drinking stopped just before sunrise.  Corollary is the sickened state when I took the Qualifying Exam for the USC College of Law the next day. So sickened that after shading over a hundred little circles and going perpetually cross-eyed after several abstract items, I literally puked my guts out when I stepped out of the little exam room. Optimism was clearly out of my system as I was certain I flunked the damn thing.

I told my mom about the qualifying exam fiasco and the tactless mother and pissed off woman that she was, she said, “Kung hindi ka makakapasok sa San Carlos, bumalik ka na lang ng Arellano.”

I gave her the look. The I’d-rather-die-than-do-what-you-say look and she retorted, “Kung ayaw mong bumalik ng Arellano, ipapa-rehab na kita lintek ka!”

I kept silent. She was still so mad since the week before, she found me drinking brandy while in front of the computer at 3:30 in the afternoon and it shocked her.

And so for days, I have been praying and praying that somehow, the heavens would take pity on me and just give me an acceptable mark. The day the results came, I hesitated to call the College as I was not even close to being prepared to be rejected. And so I wrote a letter for reconsideration just in case I didn’t make it. In the letter, I narrated how diligent a student I’ve been since I entered law school stating my over 80% GWA and that I am a member of the AUSL Student Government, the Debate Team, the Athletic Society, the Bar Operations, etc.

I accurately advertised myself, it was pathetic! But I don’t want to go back to Manila nor to a mind-numbing rehab for alcoholics. So I sold myself in that little piece of paper. After printing and signing the letter addressed to the Dean of USC College of Law, I picked up the phone, dialed and inquired about the exam results. “Bravo, yes ma’am, Bravo Romeo Alpha Victor Oscar. BRAVO.” And the most beautiful voice that graced the earth and PLDT lines that very instance uttered the words “88 imong score ‘day, ang sunod nimo 79.”

GOD IS GOOD!

After six months of insane alcohol intake, I didn’t actually murder all my useful brain cells. I’m still cut out for this. Indeed, there are better days! AMEN!!!

USC, here I come!

From Crazy to Sassy to Missing Law School

How did I manage that in less than 48 hours? 

I was out at an acoustic bar last night with a couple of friends and Magnus’ rockstar complex unleashed its divine self and upstaged the band. And so he sang a set of songs, played the guitar and made the audience swoon to kingdom come, he looked so heavenly. Out of nowhere he began calling for The Crazy Girl on stage. “Hey Crazy Girl, I’d get you a bucket (of Red Horse) if you sing that song you sing.” It didn’t occur to me that I was The Crazy Girl he was trying to embarrass and so I kept chitchatting with my friends and his cousins. Then I felt a tug from behind and the sweaty bar owner told me to get my ass on stage for my five-minute fame. And so the alcoholic me sang my own rendition of Dido’s White Flag like a pro. Uh-huh! You heard that right! Like a pro, for a bucket of Red Horse! Thank you for all those years at JP’s karaoke bar I was able to sharpen my singing prowess. *Whew* Now, I’m a rockstar too! Hahaha!!!

Later on, a 50-something-year-old American began singing “Pumapatak na naman ang ulan sa bubong ng bahay…” It was so amusing that he memorized the entire song and everyone in the bar attentively listened to every song he sang after that. Then he did a little trivia game. He’d play a song for people to guess what movie the song was played and he’d hand out a bottle of Red Horse for free. And like a regular movie freak and alcoholic, I paid my undivided attention and won a whole bucket of beer for guessing Sound of Music, The Godfather, City of Angels, Pretty Woman, Michael and Legends of the Fall. Obviously, drinking them was the whole point of the contest which paved an easy way for intoxication mode for everyone in our table. I was told that I drink like a camel, talk a hundred words per minute surprisingly with more sense, smoke like a chimney, dance with choreography and can still get out of a parallel parking space when the driver can’t. Hence, I stopped being The Crazy Girl. The Sassy Girl was brought to life as of last night.

As soon as I awoke this morning, I met up with the same group of friends at the beach for a tail gate party. While bathing under the Mactan sun with a borrowed iPod, I saw a girl from the other cottage reading Reyes’ Book II of the Revised Penal Code. I felt a pang in my chest and my disposition changed. Midterms week ended today for my classmates and I remember spending my week bombarding them with messages like, “Hoy! Mag-aral kayo. Midterms na! Good luck!” and “Property exam ‘nyo mamaya no? Wag na kayong mag-aral dahil ako lang at si Pamaran ang papasa jan! HAHAHAHA!!!”

I miss my books. I left them in my condo since I had a lot of stuff to bring and if I bring the box that contained them, my mom will hit me so bad for the excess baggage she needed to pay for. I miss reading everyday. I miss the AUSL Library, the Student Council Office, the hallways, the bridge and smoking after 10 pages. I miss the anxiety attacks before class, the blue toes and the sweaty palms during recitation. I even miss sounding like a moron during recitation and laughing about it after class. I miss the high of getting good grades and the tantrums I throw during information overload. I miss stretching one day to 25 hours and a week to 8 days just to study like a maniac. I miss overstaying at Starbucks, getting drunk at the end of the weeklong ordeal and the detox moments with Niyaku at Bubba Gump. I miss the life of a law student wherein being ‘ngarag’ is fabulous, insomnia is a trend and coffee is food supplement. I miss having food delivered in school due to lack of time to dine out. I even miss the school canteen even if they serve everything that tastes like airline food. Mostly, I miss everyone in Arellano. Even those I don’t really like, I miss them too.

The bottom line: Underneath the glory of the Mactan sun, reggae music, great food and even greater company, I pine for my old life. I pine for the boring version of me. I pine for yesterday. Suddenly, I decided to leave, abandon my friends and the beach, go home and sulk because the girl from the other cottage was too preoccupied with her book that, for a split second, I was willing to trade places with her. It was just not possible.

Vodka, Beer & My Ex’s New Girlfriend

I never thought I’d live to see that day when I would find an ex of mine walk into the room with a new girlfriend and I would not feel any twinge of awkwardness.

That’s what happened last night. 

After three years, Vap and I broke up in 2004 and since then we never tried being friends again. Rhea is one of my old friends from La Salle waaaaaaaaaaaaay back 1999 when I was still in an abusive relationship with Julio and her clique of girls were still into ballers. Hmmmm…Moj and Ping, CA and Tubid, etc. Vap and Rhea began dating early this year and stars are just around the corner that things fell into place for them.

I never thought I’d live to see that day when I would find an ex of mine walk into the room with a new girlfriend and I would not feel any twinge of awkwardness. Hell, I never thought I’d live to see that day when my ex walks in with an old friend, I am all smiles, all excited because she owes me juicy chika….coz we’re like…well…GIRLFRIENDS! HAHAHAHA!!!

To the man he has become and to the woman who deserves the best of him. CHEERS!

Rationale of the Momentary Alcoholism

Last Saturday, Isabelle’s friend Cathy introduced me to Angelica over bottles of booze. Fun was the evening and light was atmosphere that I did not truly expect the the same girl would uncover something about my being a seasonal alcoholic.

She said: “You see, party people are actually worth more than they seem to be. They’re not a wild child by any means because on every drop of vodka, dancing on long lively music and endless lighting of cigarettes, there is this vivid sign saying: Make me alive and happy again. I’m deadly broken.“

It stuck for a while and I can’t help but wonder if I fit into that aphorism I initially assumed to have encompassed. Later on, I realized that she was only partially correct because I AM NOT DEADLY BROKEN.

God, I hope I’m making sense.