Linggo, Agosto 18, 2013

Moving up and Moving on.

This has to be some kind of record. It has been two months (give or take) since I last updated my handful of readers to the goings on of my not-so-remarkable life. It goes without saying that a lot has happened the past couple of months that left me in a somewhat sordid state, not the least of which was the theft of my phone. (I’d rather not talk about that in detail.) But, considering that I’m writing this in my alma mater (That I’ll discuss in detail in my next post.), I’m feeling good about things. (That won’t last.)

So. Let’s catch up.

The Current Affair.

The last few times I posted, I was writing about this girl who I called my Anti-Thesis. Yeah, she’s my girlfriend now. It was quite sudden, and it’s been a mixture o ecstatic and hellish most of the time, but as of this writing, we’re still together, and as far as I know, we still want to be.

We’ve been going through some stuff, and I foresee new and unpleasant shit coming, but, at least as I’m writing this, the relationship will soldier on. I mean, it has to. I’m 31. A long term relationship would be nice.

The Jobs.

One of the reasons why I haven’t been blogging is that I’ve been busy. What with the weekly scripts as well as the work at the Think Tank (a job I’ve neglected for a week or two resulting in a financial clusterfuck), not to mention a new relationship, I have been more than a little preoccupied. It’s better than doing nothing, though, considering the circumstances.

The Big Man’s Latest Project.

As if the Think Tank and the TV writing gig weren’t enough, I went and added the Big Man’s latest project on my usually loaded plate of activities. It started out nicely enough, and I enjoyed shilling beauty products and being the mouthpiece of the group, but over the past couple of months, interest seems to have fizzled out from most people involved. I guess we’ll see how this turns out.

Sleepless Nights Once More.

Another one of the reasons why I haven’t blogged in so long is that what with the relationship troubles, the overworking, the theft, the lack of sleep and the already established mental issues, my problems with anxiety, depression, and all their friends have come back with a vengeance. Thing is, I’m in a far better place than I was back n 2009, but it’s as bad as it was back then. Worse, on certain days.

I feel over burdened and there’s no one I can share the weight with. Yes, I do have friends, some really good ones, but there isn’t a specific problem to take down here. The theft put the exclamation point on the whole thing. It highlighted my trust issues, my feelings of isolation, and reintroduced the sense of hopelessness that I thought I had expelled.

The difference between then and now is, after two months of dealing with everything, I’ve decided to change how I handled my issues. I’m tired of fighting and seeing as it’s never worked, I’ve decided to embrace it. All of it. The dark thoughts, the paranoia, the anxiety, the entire crazy person package.

So no, I’m not okay. Far from it. The exact opposite of, even. But this is how things are now, and as always, I will adapt and deal.

In light of all that, I’ve decided to start anew. Time for another reboot, so, starting with the next post, the chronicles of my personally overly romanticized life will be seen here.

Miyerkules, Hunyo 12, 2013

Wedding of The Year

Normally, I'd wait a certain period of time and then write about all the shit that down during said time period. It's rare that I focus on specific days, but since the wedding has been on everyone's line of sight for an entire month, and how the day (and the aftermath of that day) reeked of some level of significance, I decided to write about it.

To those who just joined in, Lloyd, one of my oldest friends, decided to get married (a seemingly good idea) and decided to get me and a bunch of people from the class of '98 to provide him with a memorable day (perhaps not as good an idea). For a month or so, I have been bending over backwards, acquiring the right assistance, meeting up with people I didn't think I'd be speaking to again and other random tasks while still maintaining the other dimensions of my life with a level of sanity. As the day came, well, as far as I'm concerned it was a worthy beginning for Lloyd and his wife, and it was a worthy ending for me and the rest of them. It was a weekend that started with a few broken promises, and ended with, if I recall correctly, at least one broken vehicle.

The Day Before.

The day before the wedding, weirdly enough, me and the Big Man were tasked to find the Best Man. (Yeah, the day before the wedding and the Best Man still had no idea what to do, thanks to the amazing coordinating powers of whoever the fuck was in charge of that.) So we found him, and amazingly enough, he was surprised to see us. I was apparent to me at that point that I was actually a part of the most relaxed wedding in the history of weddings. So, the Big Man, the Best Man and I, thinking that there was adequate time, decided to plan a little bachelor's party, since, and I admit I'm an expert, the Best Man and the Groom haven't had the chance to spend time with each other before the wedding, or for the past 7 or 8 years.

So, everything was locked down, the boys were called, and the Big Man and I parted ways with the promise of reconvening that night for some unforgettable and possibly quite regrettable silliness. He went off to get some sleep (we didn't get much cause of the wedding thing) and I went off to see the Anti-Thesis, who was dealing with boy problems and I was there to, you know what, I don't really know why I was there.

With everyone pumped at the thought of a night out, we went about our respective days. Evening fell, and the Groom, disappointingly but not surprisingly, backed out. No bachelor's party. No drinking and singing and reminiscing and talking about the future. That... that just blew.

That was our precious “night before” story. The Big Man, from what I was told, spent the night looking for porn (he was unsuccessful I think), the Best Man spent the night wishing he could learn to make spaghetti (long, sadly boring story), the Artist Formerly Known as The Spirit had acquired the guitar he was going to use for the reception dinner, and me... I was kinda falling in love. So, my night wasn't so bad.

The Big Day – Pre-Wedding.

I woke up, suited up, had coffee and hoped that the day wasn't as big a shitstorm as I was
I actually thought they were gonna French.
expecting it to be. The Big Man picked me up, and the first omen came: his shoes were mysteriously fucked up. He swears that they were okay just the day before. We downed energy drinks and we were on our way.

The first stop was The Artist Formerly Known As The Spirit, who was surprisingly already prepared for the day’s festivities. Now, this guy, the Artist Who Conveniently Forgot His Court Date, is notoriously unprofessional and inefficient. The fact that when we got there, he was ready, gear all packed up, lyrics all ready to be printed, songs ready to be sung, I thought the world was going to fucking end. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like underestimating people for I believe in the human potential. But I’ve known the Artist Who Once Shat His Pants In A Jeep since kindergarten, so I’d like to think my assessment was fair.

We got to the place where the reception was going to be held, and of course, the trend of nothing going our way continued. No one has set up, nor informed the people there that we’ll be coming in early for soundcheck, our self-important coordinator forgot to secure the equipment we needed, it was hotter than Satan’s asshole, etc, etc. All that changed when the Best Man arrived, and I left the Big Man and The Artist Who Used A Scouring Pad on His Anus to worry about the tent so we could look for the Groom. The Groom and the Best Man have not seen each other in years, and seeing them finally meet for the first time on that very important day gave me heterosexual chills. For me, that moment made all the hard, unpaid work worth it.

After all of that was set, the boys rode to the church in the school where we not only met, but I’d like to think grew up in. St. Michael’s Institute’s least favorite boys return to the alma mater as men, more or less. As the Groom got ready for the big moment, with the Best Man at his side, me, The Big Man and the Artist Who Once Fell in The School Lagoon went off to have lunch at the former Little Carlo’s, once a rinky dink tapsi place where we had lunch every day, now a less than rinky dink tapsi place where we have lunch once a year. I walked around telling people I was the one getting wed, but despite the suit and in ill chosen pink tie, no one believed me. Sad, really.

The moment was at hand, I was full, the Big Man and The Artist Who Would Sleep With Probably Anything That Says Yes went home to shower (don’t ask) and I was witness to one of the most important moments in the life of a guy I knew since the most important thing in our lives was the SNES.

The Big Day – The Actual Wedding.

I’d like to say the wedding went off without a hitch, and it mostly didn’t. The only mistake made was getting a 6’ 3” guy who injured himself playing a children’s game on the beach as one of the ushers. I was out of place, I missed cues and other shit like that. It’s a good thing the attention wasn’t on me.

I’ve been to a lot of weddings, been best man or host or usher to almost all of them, but this was different. This was our church, in our hometown. This was where our roots were planted, and seeing one of our own tie the knot here, it was just symbolic of many things. We’ve been grown ups for a while now, but the really hit home once the Bride and Groom said their “I do’s”.

It felt very solemn for me. Even though I was texting and tweeting the entire time.
Lucky guy. Gets married AND graduates from Starfleet Academy.

The Reception Dinner.

Up to that point, everyone else have done their part, some in a shitty fashion, but it was put up or shut up time for me and my two man crew. Right after the wedding, The Big Man and the Artist Who Once Let the Neighbor Kid Get Bitten by a Snake raced to the tent in the resort to work our magic. When we got there, miraculously, everything was set up perfectly. I felt that it was going to work out well. I shouldn’t have underestimated the Artist Who Denies Having Fathered a Child’s capacity to fuck things up.

At the last minute, he mentioned he lost his capo or whatever and the Big Man had to drive him to the mall, on Saturday afternoon in one of the most notoriously heavily trafficked areas in the South. So, the guests were piling in, I had no musician and no coordinator and had to start. Help came in the form of the Bride’s younger sister, who was either bored and looking for something to do other than sit there and look pretty, or she realized who epically fucked I was and lent a helping hand. (Or both.) We made do until the Big Man and The Artist Who May or May not Be a Retard showed up.

The rest of the program, while not perfect, was fun. I made jokes, people laughed. The Artist Who Actually Had Talent sang and people gasped. The Big Man did his thing, giving the photographers and the caterers and everyone else all the necessary instructions and basically not making me look like a complete jackass in front of a hundred complete strangers. Even the Best Man stole the show with his toast. (One note though, “stealing the show” isn’t always a good thing.)

And of course, the singing. There were instances wherein me and the Artist Who Knew Perfectly Well I Couldn’t Sing For Shit had to perform duets and stuff. Above and beyond, that’s what it was. We closed the program with the Groom singing a Backstreet Boys song to the Bride, with assistance from us, his very own backstreet boys, and I thought that got over pretty well.

The program ended, and in retrospect, while it was far from going down in history as the greatest reception dinner in all of wedded history, it was pretty good for three guys who had minimal experience and even less time to prepare. All the important people had a great time, and me and my friends created a moment that was ours.

The After-party.

After the whole thing, me and boys hung out with the Bride and Groom in the hotel lobby for a bit, and it was nostalgia all over. It wasn’t the kind wherein we’d sit down and talk about the past. It was more like we reverted back to our “ideal selves”. We weren’t the irresponsible single dad, or the cheating husband or the former suicidal drug addict. We were just the guys who were happy for our friend, while kinda hinting that the Artist Who is Actually Straight is super gay.

We're proud of our almost mediocre results.
Once the newlyweds decided to turn in, we had time to drink quietly in a nearby bar; all that fatigue just really settling in at that point. I was mostly lost in thought, watching the three of them, or the four of us, and who we were, who we are and who we could potentially be. The reality sank, as well, that (with probably the exception of me and the Big Man as our fates seem to be tied together) that this may well be the last time we, all of us, got to hang out in such a manner. (Especially since I don’t see any weddings on the horizon.) So, I formulated a plan to make the night somewhat ore fitting to the kinds of nights we were used to.

While drinking, the Bride’s sister was bugging us about joining her to drink in her place and oddly enough she was persistent on bringing the Best Man along. I smelled a potential hook up, and I’m pretty sure at that point the Big Man could already read my mind, so off we went, brandy in hand, to get the Best Man laid.

Yeah, that didn’t happen.

We got there, and there she was, and so were three really muscle-y topless guys who, despite being short, I was willing to bet can beat each and everyone of our geeky asses without breaking half a sweat. It was like drinking on the set Prison Break. But, they were nice guys, we drank and got drunk (we were more tired than expected) and as far as my recollection of the night went, we drank at lot of tea, fucked up a motorcycle, sang some Andrew E. (?), and I passed out and woke up at my place.

If that was the sendoff, I’m pretty happy about it.


The next day, I woke up, most of the suit still on, headache raging and the memories of the previous day and night (even the blurry ones) made me smile. The following week I took a break from work and concentrated on my personal life (I will focus on that on my next post.) and explored new connections with new people. I heard some negative feedback about my “inappropriate” hosting, but fuck it. The person who made the comments did next to nothing to help us out, and the Bride, the Groom, the Bride’s sister and a lot of others liked it. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to do half of the things I’ve done in my life if I worried about being appropriate. So, to the one critic that couldn’t even talk shit to me face to face, you know which part of my anatomy you can kiss.

That was a milestone event for me personally. It made me realize a few important things. It helped me quit smoking. It made me contemplate specific aspects of my past and future, and how I can use my present.

Basically, I think it’s time I “retired”, don’t you think?

“But we are two worlds apart
Can't reach to your heart
When you say
That I want it that way” – Backstreet Boys, “I Want It That Way”

Roll credits.

Huwebes, Mayo 30, 2013

Balancing Act

And here I thought I’d be blogging on a more regular basis. But, the past three weeks have been characteristically busy, but I’m happy to say that life is more easily organized now that I’m down to basically three or four spheres. The past three weeks, I’ve helped organized a damn wedding, went to the beach at 2 AM, saw a million movies, read poetry and promoted myself VP of Mean Affairs.

No rants this time. I haven’t been feeling ranty in a while.

The Road to The Wedding of The Year.

Last year, Lloyd, a friend of mine since grade school, mentioned he’d be getting married this year, and he wanted me to not only be one of the groomsmen, but also host the reception. Since I have experience in both areas, and Lloyd has always been one of the most decent guys I’ve met (a rarity considering we are all products of a Catholic school that produced some of the greatest assholes of our generation).  Plus, he was getting married at our school, and I thought that was going to be quite a kick.

So, I met with him and another old friend, plus his bride to be, expecting to just be handed the program and just wing the thing. Apparently, I was not only slated to host the thing, I had to come up with the program as well, which meant two things: 1.) I had to work with a person I haven’t spoken to in years, and 2.) Lloyd was a dick. The meeting turned into a drinking session, and had some pretty wild moments, but when all that cleared, the nagging question was “will I be able to pull this off?” Not alone.

It's like "The Hangover", only less funny and not very interesting.
It was that time again. Call to arms, suiting up, doing what we do best. So the following weeks have been a whirlwind of phonecalls, meetings and planning sessions with the Big Man (who’ll be my number two on this particular job once more), The Artist Formerly Known as The Spirit (who’s providing the music, as well as playing the role of the annoying wildcard), Lorena (who’s doing logistics), the Bride and Groom and the still missing bestman.

Over the course of the past couple of weeks, we’ve dealt with missing rings, wardrobe issues, and The Spirit’s bullshit, but I have to admit, I am having the time of my life. How can I not? It’s us, the Coffeehouse boys, doing our thing in our hometown, for one of our oldest friends. This is the kind of shit people make movies about.

As far as I’m concerned, despite the numerous gatherings in the past, this is the actual high school reunion. Strangely though, I have a nagging feeling that this would be one of our, if not the, last time this group comes together. Time will tell on that one. But right now, all I care about is giving the only apt wedding gift I could give: a hassle free wedding day.


Cool kids hang out in hardware stores.
What with the wedding business, the TV thing and the Think Tank, I normally would have gotten into one of my moods and craved for my usual alcohol-powered moments of enlightenment. Incidentally enough, I didn’t need it thanks to a friend from the office who happens to be my polar opposite.

The past three weeks have been movies and conversation with the Little Latter Day Saint, a girl from the office who didn’t drink, smoke, stay out late, and all of the other shit that has been the norm for my life since 1998, but surprisingly enough, we have an amazing time whenever we’re together. She even managed to help me get through the recent rejection I went through and the baggage that comes with it. She’s my pseudo-girlfriend, whatever the hell is, and it works. I’m sane, and she’s really sweet. I’m at a happiness level rarely seen, and she has me blushing again. Haven’t done that in a while.

And to think, all this started because I was too scared to watch Evil Dead alone.

Other Office Affairs.

When I’m not out doing random freelance shit or hanging out with the Anti-Thesis, I’m at the Think Tank, which for two years now has provided a solid state of stability. Sorta. But there have been drastic changes from the past year, from the boss resigning, to the team dismantling, to the whole part time status hoopla, and then came another game changer. The Office Fat Guy quit. (That’s a term of endearment.)

While I’m friendly to almost of everyone at work, over the years, this guy has been one of the shockingly few people I can consider a friend. We’ve been through a lot, relatively, and him leaving does alter the status quo a bit. So, in honor of his last day, I decided to do something special, and ensure it was memorable. So, I gathered people who normally wouldn’t be in the same room together, we drank and I inducted him to Think Tank Hall of Fame with a laundry list of his “achievements” from work. A nice time was had by all. I hope. While I am happy for him pursuing something more, it’s going to be different back at the Tank now.

Miscellaneous Adventures.

An award from me isn't even worth the paper it's printed on.
While the past few weeks have been full of work and stuff, I still managed to find the time to get myself in a few adventures. There was one wherein the Big Man and I went to the beach at 2 AM, with only a hundred bucks between us and gas was low. (Long story.) That was fun. We also brought The Spirit to some place where we could cock block him again. (I don’t remember much from that night, since I’ve been up for two days straight.) I had coffee with the director of the show, which was nice, if I hadn’t been up for two days straight again and carrying three bricks of Heroclix. But, it was nice talking shop with one of the greats.

It’s just good to know that even with the usual torrent of jobs to do, I still get the chance to fuck around.

Balance Once More.

I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m in a good place now. Career (if one can call it that) is going well, I’m professionally and personally fulfilled, and I’m still having more fun than the average person. I’m sure at some point some crisis would come along and upset this balance, or my own personal and mental issues ruin it for me, but all in all, I’m good. Let’s keep this going.