--Kerima Polotan, The Hand of The Enemy

a haze of optimism still enshrouds me at this point. i am twenty-two years old (or sixteen for the past six years), eternally single, virtually unpublished (outside school, that is, although an article under my name's due this february), and jobless therefore penniless.

in my haste, the last post turned out to be pathetic and utterly unfair as far as the writers' night is concerned. a night in the presence of writers and talk about just one? harharhar

one movie that certainly makes it to my top five list is wonder boys. perhaps it was the yardstick upon which i placed my expectations of how a writer's night would be. it is a sickness--hollywood constantly allows me to forget that i am in the philippines. in the said movie, there also was a writers' night. it was held in the chancellor's house where distinguish-looking gentlemen and ladies sported elegant black suits and little black dresses. in every hand, a wineglass was cradled. people were happy and beautiful. although everyone was talking about literature or the state of literature or publishing, there was a festive glow that only the warmth of camaraderie can tolerate. it was about art but inasmuch as it was about having a good time.

or perhaps magaling lang silang magplastikan.

i still, at this point, cannot articulate in a very sincere fashion why i chose to postpone professional fulfillment in exchange for a masteral program in a field known to be monetarily barren. but i must admit that the movie encouraged me and gave me that confidence to put off earning in exchange for writing, and learning how to go about it. and hopefully, i will get to meet james leer as i do so.

* * *

let me clear that i am no victim, nor culprit. i will not hide behind the mesmerizing colors of the academe, nor will i shortchange my decisions through images of my lingering sloth and the comforts i enjoy.

* * *

last sunday's slumber party had been in the brewing for at least a month and everyone was informed as early as The Exodus. Nostradamus had predicted that it shall happen so it was but a surprise that not all of us made it. harharhar no, i am not bitter, just surprised.

anyway, so a bewildered lisa greeted me in the elevator, clueless of how to bring herself to the room--in discovery, you need the keycard to be able to press the desired floor. everyone else in the elevator disappeared under our gasps and excited babble. patty, muffin, lar and alessa were having dinner when we arrived. and then kaia and erix burst into the room fresh from podium, doing the one thing i did not bother to do (largely because i am penniless), that is hunting for artifacts for the exchange gift from eightees heaven.

that was supposed to be the theme of the night: eightees babies. see, for our psych class, we made this very incriminating video. we encrusted ourselves with eightees apparel as we swayed to "shout." it was fun and as i have said, incriminating. come to think of it, that was what made it fun: we have this secret video we share among ourselves. er and with our psych teacher and classmates. consequently, no one has a freakin idea where the hell it is. the original plan was to shoot the sequel. but the gods must have needed a break from this quirk of ours as circumstances conspired to have us not shoot it. i am certain that someday, it will be shot, in dolby surround no less. watch out for the premier, you guys.

i was about to have desert when randy arrived. (no offense meant, but there's an eightees name) we dashed to 7-11 to buy booze and had an arguement in front of the casheir as to whom will shoulder the butal in the bill. he left me on the counter but in the end, i won after a very public and debasing battle. yes, i am the queen of cheapness.

the coffe table stood low among us as we scattered ourselves in the sitting area. on it were glasses of rumcola, ginsprite and tequila, (is it tekeela or tekila?). hovering above was the mixture of nostalgia and plain senseless laughter. the best question popped during the early parts of the night was whether i played with myself. the best answer was the one that addressed it.

a non-smoker would think that these questions and these answers and booze and laughter were enough to send anyone to a smashing trip. well, there was also erix's fabulous pate, or what randy kept on calling delicious reno liver spread hahaha. so the sixth floor club was established. (move over, 700club.) since we were not on a smoking floor, erix, kaia and i had to take trips down to the sixth floor just to be able to re-enact that scene from my bestfriend's wedding. (arrest me. i'm a bad person. i'm a criminal. hahaha) one memorable yosibreak was when everybody started to talk about love and relationships. why should they not--they were all in love and in relationships anyway, save for kaia, erix and i, and lisa (but she is not a smoker). being witty and funny and cringing in the background and wondering what the big fuss was all about started to be boring (okay, that sentence was kinda bitter.) so erix and i (kaia was taking a powernap) decided to exorcise ourselves by treating our lungs with some nicotine.

since sixth floor was just a floor below, she had the splendid idea of just hitting the staircase. glass of rumcola in one hand, no pants under the robe and feet in those free flimsy fabric slippers that came free with the room, i followed her into that stairwell from hell. it was easy, letting ourselves in; there was this chrome industrial lever that allows easy access.

this lever was nowhere to be found from inside the stairwell.

i'm sure i've watched this before, being trapped in the emergency stairwell. if erix was a studmuffin, or for that matter, if i were a hunk, this was supposed to be romantic. if discovery suites was in the middle of a forrest or an abandoned ghost town, then we would have been recreating the climax of some horror b-movie. but it just felt stupid.

all the same, i was bracing myself for emerging into the lobby in just a robe and slippers, or having to spend the night with erix trapped in the stairwell and coming out of it in the morning as a new-age couple when fortunately the door in the fifth floor was busted. we literally clawed it open and saw chiara standing in front of the elevator. i jumped on her, still shaking with laughter and relief. perhaps the best ending for this is story is that. i did not have to burst into the lobby in a very domesticated appearance.

i am least lovable when i pretend to be comfortable.