I went to a Century Party last night. Overall it was a fairly positive experience, but still extremely hollow. I was not part of the century per se; I drank 3 beers rather quickly and did get rather drunk, but I was sensible enough to realize that were I to participate in the century, I wouldn't be able to participate in SMILE this morning. Instead I drank until I reached the "happy glow" phase, which in my recent experience is composed of equal parts loneliness for my TO friends and surprise that the people around me suddenly become wonderful when the light of alcohol shines full upon them. (I suppose this same light is what caused me in third year to think that Beowulf, Brit Boy & Fly were interesting people.) I did make many interesting drunken memories however: doing a tequilla shot off a female colleague is one; dancing by myself to an MP3 labeled "Blade: Bloodbath" is another.
(Inside my head I hear the protest: please stop talking about this. I know; my tendency is to overanalyze. I wish I could just treat this evening with the superficiality of regard it deserves and be done with it. My problem is that I have a lack of experience to write about instead.)
I got home to an empty house, as is usual in these days of odd work shifts. Unable to sleep without hearing from somebody who really likes me, I then spent an hour on the phone to Tymothi:J and the newly-single St. Pete. They were both interested to hear that we may very well be moving back next year, which is gratifying. I would be more excited about moving back myself, but as I wrote last night in my drunken stupor, "I hate and fear my own desires." More correctly, I hate and fear making an easy choice just to be comfortable. Toronto is a black hole; ask Poet if you don't believe me. Going back into its field of influence will mean a hell of a struggle should we ever want to leave the gravity well again.
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3 years ago today: After all, what's the big deal? You step up, you step down.
