i feel like a Chuck Palahniuk character these days. nothing like the ones in "Guts" though.. oh God, NEVER.
i so fear my mind.. at least, what it's turning into. nights out are getting harder and harder to recall the following day. considering that my alcohol tolerance nowadays is comparable to that of a newbie's and i'm not even on anything, i have good reason to believe that my brain is on its way to giving up on me completely. either that or i've already burned the reported measly 10% that we use.
take last Wednesday night, for example. iDJ opening at the MDC. fun fun fun event with overwhelming ear and eye candy. i'm sure that i had more alcohol than my liver can properly process. the next day, i barely woke up in time for work and saw a huge bruise on my backside below my right hip, a small wound on my left elbow and a slight bruise on my left cheekbone. WHAT. THE. FUCK. and then i remembered falling down the stairs of MDC before going home. other than that.. not much. the night's sequence of events were certainly not in order in my head.
Ivan has patiently reminded me of some of what happened (like me accidentally hitting my head on the wall on our way down and forgetting his change from one of the bartenders, among other things) but i can't completely recall most of them. i can't remember the conversations i had with strangers. i can't even remember most of the people i talked to.
Friday night, after
Saguijo where i caught up with the Angulo boys and wanting to catch Urbandub (i ended up not going inside the place anymore since it was hella packed), i went straight to Pier One along Roxas to have a nightcap with my officemates. 3 beers later, i was talking out of my ass already. and no, i don't remember much of what i was telling those people. i just know it was definitely NOT about work.
then Saturday. MDC again, Fluxxe night. while i had significantly less alcohol this time (REALLY, i WASN'T DRUNK!), everything is still a daze. only two instances stood out. the first would be when this little dancing girl accidentally hit the back of my right calf with her stilletto heel. now there's a murder-on-the-dancefloor/DRI (Disco Related Injury) cocktail for you. as if that wasn't enough, i was wearing a short skirt, so O U C H. if you see the 5-inch thin red gash (fuck bloodclots) i have there now, you would be saying "Ouch!" with me as well. my officemates are horrified at how it looks, so no skirts for me in the meantime.
the second instance that i'm "lucky" enough to remember is when i lost my mobile phone. actually, correct that. i don't remember when i lost it. i was already in a cab, fishing around in my handbag when i realized that my phone was missing. i told the person i was with to try calling it. of course my number "couldn't be reached" anymore. again, aside from these two instances, i can barely remember anything more from that night.
it doesn't even stop at nights out. i can barely remember passwords, former colleagues' names, what i said to whom last week, blah blah blah..
so here i am, literally walking wounded and i'm thinking that it's a good thing my boyfriend's not here. considering all my visible injuries, people might go labelling me as a "BUTTERED gelpren". i know i'm a masochist, but unwittingly getting these battlescars is such a pain in the derriere. i've been trying to get myself to write something, ANYTHING, these past weeks and i just COULDN'T. i feel so SABAW but it's not even the funny kind anymore.
and it really really really sucks not remembering. i now have the brain of an Alzheimer's patient at the tender age of 24. whoop-dee-da.