?

Log in

Buzzin'

« previous entry |
Jul. 22nd, 2015 | 11:30 pm
location: the couch
mood: buzzed
music: Learn to Fly by FKJ feat. Jordan Rakei

"What are your addictions?"
Most of the class murmered with embarrassed denial. How can our professor ask about addictions?
"Sir naman! I don't do drugs. I don't even smoke!"
The smokers in the room stayed quiet but barely concealed knowing smiles.
I just laughed.
"Oh c'mon, we all are addicted to something. It doesn't have to be smoking nor drinking. It could be food or something else," my professor explained, rolling his eyes exasperatedly at the outraged murmurs around the room.

"I once had an American student. On one occasion, I asked him about his college life. He laughed and said he couldn't remember anything from his lessons. Except that he was drunk every single day.

I joked that something must have gone right, since he's now studying for a master's degree. He laughed and said, 'I honestly don't know, sir.' He seemed serious about his answer, so I asked why he drank so much. I thought it had something to do about stress, peer pressure, or heaven forbid, family problems. But then he said, 'I wanted the buzz, sir. I kept looking for it. I wanted it. I needed it.'"

And then I realized he was right. We wanted to chase that fine line between sobriety and inebriation - that alcohol-induced limbo when you start feeling light-headed, when your fingertips start to go numb, when your tongue starts to get loose, when your laugh gets a little louder, when your let your guard go down low enough for you to pull it back up as soon as people directed their amused stare at you.

Friends have always said I possess an iron liver. I drink copious amounts of alcohol and almost always never get drunk.

Thing is, I keep myself from getting drunk, because I want to reach that line. I want the buzz, not the blackouts, the vomiting and the
inevitable hangover.

Because at that point, I can think clearly. Or maybe not think at all. I can make sense of everything and at the same time, giving up making sense of it all. I give wisdom yet don't take any of that for myself.

I start to understand why people are the way they are and why things happen as they do. But it doesn't necessarily mean that I have to accept them. And yet I just do.

I laugh when I start to cry and cry when I'm supposed to be laughing. I will tell you what you need to hear whether you like it or not. Or maybe keep the peace, because I need peace for myself.

I want to touch you and tell you all things you want to hear. But hold back, because this is not the time nor place.

Oh look, a slip of the tongue. It must be the alcohol.

Contrary to popular belief, I am not an alcoholic. Far from it. I don't seem to need it as much as I think I do. I can resist the bottle of Jaeger that sits right in front of me in the office. It is not without some amount of will, but good sense prevails most of the time.

I still don't see anything wrong with having a drink in the morning. Or throughout the day. Just don't be stupid.

But who am I to say such things? This is probably the alcohol talking anyway.

And right at the time when I decide to write for myself.

Then again, they say writers (like me) write best with alcohol.

Link | Leave a comment | Share

Comments {0}