Well, it was certainly a weird weekend. On the other hand, it was the kind of weekend that seemed perfectly normal only a few years ago. I suppose my high water marks for weirdness have receded.

On Friday the Boy & I spent the night arguing, with a brief pause to see "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." I was more pleased with it the second time, as I was able to pick up thematic elements that had rushed past me while I compared her experience to my own. The Boy loved it too.

Saturday night I went to Q's housewarming party by myself, as the Boy was off with Exodus & Kingston Bob for the afternoon. I didn't really know anyone other than Stacy, so the two of us sat on a couch & bitched while the other party guests ran around & interfaced with various illicit substances. Let me tell you, there is nothing more boring than drinking Diet Coke at a party full of stoned strangers. Stacy packed it in fairly early, a victim of an early schedule, and by the time I returned from driving her home, the Boy had arrived. Three hours went by while I watched him drink beer and discuss art & genetic drift with Exodus. Finally it was time to go. This was when the problems started, or rather, this was when the problems became more acute.

One of the reasons we were able to visit Chicago in August is because Q paid us gas money to transport some boxes in advance of his move. These boxes have been sitting in our living room ever since, and I'd hauled them into the car before leaving for the party. Now that we were ready to leave, the boxes needed to be unpacked from the car...but by then Q was exhibiting something akin to "the depravity of a man in the depths of an ether binge." He couldn't talk, let alone co-ordinate a heavy lifting operation. Fortunately, at that moment Valgarth & Johnny Bender showed up with a crowd of boys and I was able to persuade them to help.

When we pulled away, an ant trail of black-clad boys loaded with boxes were making their way back to the apartment. I was proud of myself.

"Wow, I actually watched someone get the first taste of acid for free. I guess clichés really do come true."

- me

Yesterday we went to my grandmother's house for the roast feast. Unfortunately, I realized just a bit too late that I was in no shape emotionally to discuss my current living conditions with a hoard of relatives...so I withdrew and remained silent for most of the afternoon. I'm sure they thought that the Boy & I were arguing, but I really couldn't help it; I simply wasn't up to faking enthusiasm in my life, let alone telling the truth about my depression & anxiety. This made the long afternoon something of an ordeal, and when I wasn't stuffing my face I was scheming my way out of the room.

When we finally got home, I was able to shed a great deal of the ugly feeling that had settled on me like so many gnats. We quickly changed clothes and set out to Stacy's for a now-traditional new Buffy episode before heading out to the Dance Cave to see Shannon spin. We once again arrived before the music began, and Stacy & I had the honour of being the first two girlies on the dance floor when "Peepshow" compelled our performance. Seeing me out there, Shannon immediately put on "Charlotte Sometimes" and then "Temple of Love." The two of us are more out of shape than we'd figured, and we had to bow out in the middle of the Sisters. I thought of fairy tale shoes, dancing me to death.

It was a very weird night musically, as Shannon seemed to have repudiated her retro mandate for the night. I heard some current goth club stuff as well as some mid-nineties music I really could've done without (for example, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" followed by "Killing in the Name of," two songs I used to dance to unironically.) By the time last call rolled around, we'd had more than enough dancing goodness.

Well, the panic and crying has started. I simply haven't done enough this weekend, and I'm painfully unprepared for the week ahead...or at least, that's what my viscera tells me. I've worked myself up to the point where working and not working makes em equally crazy. I think I'm going to try meditation.

4 years ago today: from when I could tell the world to go away