Monday, November 17, 2008

My ten minutes of boredom

Ok, out of boredom I found myself thinking just what can I write in a span of 10 minutes. There is no fixed topic of any sort, all that I am doing is writing what comes into my head (as fast as my fingers can type, at least) for the next minutes and see what I come up with. Hmm, that may turn out to be one really uninteresting piece if my calculations are correct but I’ll just see how this goes. So humor me.

Well, 2 minutes have passes and so far this is where I have come. I reckon that around half a minute was spent on backspacing, yes I am a terrible typist. I don’t know what I’d be able to do if we lived in the age of non-correctable typewriters. The clackity-clak type. I remember we used to have those really big typewriters, the manual variety in high school typing class. That was one semester wasted. I never really got the hang of it. And my fingertips used to hurt like hell after typing my name for 2 typing papers. For those of you who know my name, you will understand the reason why I was really good at it. Double the practice in the same amount of time. Hehe.

Ok, that’s now 5 minutes. Still a lot of corrections but not as much as the first two minutes. Either my fingers suddenly discovered the feel of the keyboard or my mind has gone into slow motion mode. It’s probably more of the latter as I am having trouble thinking of the next succession of words that I am going to type.

Long pause, about 10 seconds. Signs that my brain is all set to go to stand by mode. During these times, I just blankly stare at whatever is in front of me with absolutely nothing going on in my head. Yet, I am a sort of expert when it comes to that, lately my brain has been fried from doing these reviews for a friend (professionally, of course) that I have begun to appreciate being able to think of absolutely nothing. The perfect way to de-stress.

Ok, approaching the final minute of this endeavor. Undoubtedly this has got to be among the top 5 dumb and utterly useless ideas that I have come up with. Winding down to 30 seconds. Hmm, there is that next urgent problem that will be coming up soon, I realize. The problem now is what the heck am I gonna do next? (10:08 )

At Wit's End

I have a tendency to get drunk. It’s a side effect of drinking large quantities of alcohol. It happens to me a lot, a consequence of the right conditions: My presence and alcohol’s. Some people say I’m an alcoholic, but that’s them and I’m me. It’s pointless to argue with them so I just steer clear of the topic and reach out for another drink.

On some occasions when I drink, I am known to forget some things that I have done during my moments of drunkenness. Last night was one of those occasions. I was informed by some friends of mine of what I did. Yep, that sounded like something that I would have done given that state. I checked my shirt at once and finding no shoe impressions on it, I can safely say that it was a moderately good time. Shoe impressions, you see, means that I had a deliriously splendid time with me irritating some person to no end resulting in said foot apparel landing on my person.

Yes, I guess I could do without all the antics and bouts of amnesia. So from now on, I will stick to a rate of 25mL of alcohol per half hour. That means approximately 1 shot of hard drinks every thirty minutes or 1 bottle of beer. At that rate, assuming I drink for 2 hours, I get to drink 4 bottles of beer which is way below my average pace. Under the proper gastronomic conditions it will be nearly impossible for me to turn into Mr. Hyde following the above. It should also increase my savings and allow the streets of Manila to be safer.

Barring any catastrophe, I resolve to keep my alcohol intake under control. Hmm… can’t wait to try it, though. Hahahaha!

Never the right question to the wrong answer

I find myself watching Big Fish on HBO for the nth time. A little fairy tale-ish, yes but so entertaining nonetheless. I specially like the thought of being too big for a small town, sort of the opposite of what I feel, actually. And so enter insecurity, please!

Reading comics growing up, there is a god (or cosmic being?) in the Marvel universe called the watcher. And that is all that he does, watch stuff. How can you be a god when all you do is watch stuff? Undoubtedly the creation of a couch potato, This giant-headed being really has no say in the whole universe, except of course when chronicling epic battles of supreme importance. Where do I sign up for that? I definitely feel that I can do that job well.

I remember each and every car accident that I was in and that eventful half a second before I hit whatever object was in the way. That half second could just as well have been an hour. Everything just slows down and I get to see every little detail of what’s going on. It’s that moment when you’ve done all that you could and you just freeze and brace yourself for what’s to come. Upon impact, everything speeds up again and you see “the light”. It’s sort of like a camera flash where everything goes white and that infinitesimal moment gets etched into your memory. I couldn’t remember where I was and where I was going but I remember that moment in full high definition.

Recently, something of the sort happened. Of course, I was a spectator on the sidelines just watching. I won’t tell you what happened and how exactly it becomes significant for me, being that the internet is within the public domain but it felt pretty similar to a car crash. And “the light” was there. Oh yes, it didn’t occur to me that it was a “the light” moment but it was unmistakably there, all right. “The light” was followed by the usual moment of panic of not knowing how to react and then calm settles in upon acceptance that it happened. Rats!

Just like in a car crash, the aftermath was pretty messy and involved a lot of thought. The ensuing back and forth of post-“the light” analysis between me and myself led to nothing as usual, just that blank stare that demanded huge quantities of alcohol to be consumed. The hang over wasn’t of much help either, and when the smoke cleared there were more questions that always came up with no answers. Hello, is anybody home up there?

Such as shame that I learn nothing from these moments. Therapy might seem like a good option, but is knowing what went wrong without the corrective-action-gene going to result into anything? I guess I could accept the fact that these things will happen again in the future and that this inevitability comes much sooner rather than later. So cheers to you, The Watcher! Can you please pass the bar nuts?