posted by Nk. at 12:38 PM

i've always admired those people who can write so honestly, without fear of standing naked to the universe, those people who, at an age where you're supposed to be making the most mistakes in your life -- can write so clearly, so eloquently and with purpose, those people who can express their thoughts and make you really laugh out loud, cry, or simply just stop what you're doing and read. and think. and do something.

so here are two stories (which, under normal circumstances, are brought up only either when i'm drunk and therefore prone to spilling secrets, or, held at gunpoint (which hasn't happened yet), or, bribed with a huge amount of shopping money) that still does not qualify me to The Inspiring Group of People.


every year, my high school friends have our annual christmas reunion at my house. for several years now it has been the "tradition" because at home, it's okay to get drunk and get wasted. yes, i'm one of those kids who have cool parents who leave us alone except for those times when they have to ask us to tone down our noise a bit because the next thing our neighbors might throw our way (next to rocks) could be a sofa or kitchen table; or those times when they hear a commotion because somebody either threw up on the guy next to him, or forgot the difference between the bed and the toilet.

anyway.

i remember a party a couple of years ago, when i haven't quit smoking yet. there we were, on the hundredth round of godknowswhat mixture of alcohol raffy has managed to create. there i was, puffing my cigarette and making random snide remarks when i see somebody standing in a rather dark corner of our yard, sort of watching us.

me to myself: who's that balding guy standing in the dark?


a second or two later, i realize that the balding guy is actually none other than my father (who by the way, is okay to drinking but absolutely abhors the idea of his daughters smoking). apparently he got up to check if he hadn't forgotten to lock our back gate.

so. what do you do when you're caught red-handed?

what else.

pretend that nothing happened.


and then there are things that you can't do anything but laugh about.

on a birthday celebration of a close guy friend some years ago, we decided, after several rounds of drinks, that the group should go see the beach. drunk and silly, the group -- two guys and three girls who'e been friends since high school, manage to drive to the beach (alive, praise the Lord) a town away. and because the beach was already closed (no more lifeguards at 2am), the five of us crawled under the wire fence with the big "No Entry" sign above it, all the while giggling with drunken glee.

now. who could resist the sea? certainly not five crazies who've had far too much to drink. except for one girl-friend who turned chicken (read: sober), all of us ran happily to the water. at 2 in the morning. wearing well, what you dare to wear only around people who you really trust, or you're sure won't be able to remember what you were wearing (or not) the next morning.

so there.


it would be two years later that one of the guy friends would tell us that, that time -- it was very much, a full moon.

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