S. O. S.

I remember those days when me and my friends would just stay up late, talk, pig out, watch tv, and play Monopoly til like 2 or 4 in the morning. I don't remember what we talked about because we talked about anything that could possibly in anyone's mind.

What I really remember about those times was that whenever we played Monopoly, which by the way would run for hours, I was excited to get in jail. Why? Because that would mean I'd get to have a break. I can either go back to texting whoever was still up then, or I could catch up on the tv show we were supposedly tuned in. And I get a bathroom break without disrupting the flow of the game. :-P

That go to jail mishap is what I need right now. I think.

I am tired of thinking. I have way too much on my mind right now, none of which I want to talk about, because I am just that much tired of thinking, worrying, stressing. I'd like to be sent to my own jail. Take a break.

I don't want to blame anything in my life right now for being this stressed.

*You know what just happened? I typed random words which I thought was still under the subject which I then realized that it doesn't make sense and I just pressed the backspace button like ten times to make sure I typed this sentence right.*

I don't want to stop from writing. It is my escape, my happiness, my refuge, my comfort zone. It is where my locked-up thoughts are set free. It is why in those early hours of the day you can find me sane and decent enough to talk to.

But, as someone said so last night, "You have a lot on your mind to write." True enough. I don't even know how to get my tangled brain cells untangled. If you could get inside my brain, you'd be lost within five seconds. Because I know I am right now.

And I will be honest. I need help.

On Being Meredith Grey.

Actually, quizzes and personality tests point me in the direction of Izzie.

Oh well. I'm Meredith again tonight.



You see, I have this bad habit of drinking getting drunk the night before work. The first time I did this was during my grad-slash-birthday party. I'm serious, I didn't know I would be getting interviewed for my first job the next day.


The second time would probably be before I handed out my first (out of five) resignation attempt. I think that helped bring up enough courage for me to type in my e-mail notice. Which basically resulted to being called in my boss's office, wherein he told me that I e-mailed him a threatening letter. (Until now I don't get how it became threatening so don't ask.)


I could not remember the other times I was intoxicated the night before work but I remember the last time was during my friend's birthday. I don't know if it's because of my love for him that I allowed myself to bartend on such short notice, or I just wanted to get drunk so badly. I choose the latter as I've been getting depressed more and more lately. (Oh stress, thank you for giving me excuses to get drunk. Come on, seven straight working days IS enough reason to get drunk right?)


Anyhoo. Today, I believe is not my fault. I woke up at noon because my stupid cat kept on walking on me just so I would wake up and scoot and give him space to sleep on my bed, when I got a message from Nica that she has these left-over bottles of alcohol from her party last weekend that we have to finish off. (Hay nako, so not my fault. I never told her to buy more than the three bottles required for her flaming shots.) The kid enjoyed mixing drinks as much as I do, so who am I to say no to her request? (And she just lives two houses up the street. How can I refuse her invitation?)



And that is basically the reason why I have this big rush of thoughts in my head and I was able to type seven paragraphs in four minutes. (There goes the creative juices Ms. Sam was talking about.) And I'm guessing that tonight will also be the reason why I will be late again for work tomorrow. I also have this huge feeling that I will be spending lunch break on the office couch, sleeping.


On the bright side, I can honestly say I am not drunk. Because I am writing cohesively, AND I did not erase too much on this entry. Although I am guilty of puking in Nica's bathroom tonight. (The first ever in the history of our drinking lives.) And on top of that, I puked again when I got home. (Now this is starting to bother me. How powerful was my concoction that I made Wilma and myself puke? I'm not counting Em. She always blows up every session anyway.)


It's been more than an hour since the last shot of Bacardi cocktail I downed. I think I am sober, or sleepy, now, and practically with an empty stomach. I can taste the banana leaf of the puto bumbong I had during dinner. I had already bid goodbye to the Andok's chicken we had for pulutan two hours ago, and I'm now starting to crave for a bowl of Lucky Me beef mami.


But then, I am much more sleepy than hungry. Maybe I'll just eat breakfast when I wake up.