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Sunday, February 11, 2007

Two Bottles

Yesterday, I spent the entire day in bed, nursing a mean hang-over. I tried to summon even only the slightest energy to do some other things worthwhile, but the spirit can only lift a weak flesh to certain predetermined levels. Beyond those marked limits, one is predisposed to just let go and allow nature to take its own sweet course.

That, I realized, via a eureka-moment induced by the bottled St. Michael's concoction, is simply the approximation of the yin and yang of life. You can’t reach blissful acmes without getting pulled by an abysmal nadir. Positive – negative. Happy - sad. Fun --- hang-over. And this stupid rationalization is just but a symptom of the negative extreme. (lol)

Seriously, I have been learning not to be terribly serious with life. I surmised, with the aid of some divine nectars, that challenges and problems are but regular spices to this entire journey, that without them, life will be some damn bland experience. The resulting motto? Take all the punches, but don’t forget to store beer in the fridge. Or whatever.

I’m beginning to lose count of the various hurdles life has thrown my way for the past few years, but while I do sulk for being Fate’s favorite toy, I guessed I just had to enjoy the attention. Stubbornness can be pretty annoying, and when I eventually get the Playmaker’s goat, I’m quite sure he’ll soon just leave me alone with the good things in life.

And what better way can there be to taunt Life but by showing resilience? By finding time to meet with friends and just let time pass sans any trace of worry?

That’s why, for some time now, I’ve been having two-bottle sessions with friends. Not very often, but good enough to wash down the rust of life. This began during the bar review period when fun was taboo. Given the back-breaking rigors of the period, it was then but natural for us to thirst for any soothing elixir. But of course, only up to a certain level, we hoped.

But as all drinkers would know, the pre-specified limit is just the cross-over margin. There is where the drinkers are given the option to exercise restraint and pack-up; but as that is breached, there is no more telling when to stop.

And most of the time, the limit is breached. And when the dam breaks, all the angels in heaven join in the fun. Problems be damned! They’ve had us by the balls for so long now, that sparing time for gleeful abandon with friends will not hurt.

Thus, the other night, I enjoyed. Thus, the hang-over.

And until now, I’m still trying to make sense of myself.

Two bottles, anyone?


wilfredo pascual said...

Tagay naman diyan.

Here's to all our wait and see. May the waiting inspire.

aryo said...

He he! Cheers!

Am normally an impatient person. But since I am now resigned to simply letting fate take its course, then I should at least find enjoyment in the waiting.

Mani pa! Mani!

Mys Lyke Meeh said...

Hang-over? Still?


Hmnn, cool.