Monthly Archives: August 2005

The Most I Can Say For Now

Between the over­time and the ven­ture meet­ings with Aaron, the rest­less nights and the early morn­ings, I try to catch my breath. It’s good to be busy, but not when it means I don’t have the time or energy to write. This is the prob­a­bly the most infre­quent pub­lish­ing period I’ve ever been through since the start of this blog. Thoughts develop in my head, but I’m not ready to get them down and hit pub­lish yet. Maybe it’s a com­fort thing, maybe it’s a front, maybe I’ve sim­ply lost the desire to doc­u­ment every sin­gle detail of my life.

Through all of this I feel myself regain­ing some sta­bil­ity, although I tread lightly, remain­ing both con­scious and cau­tious. This is the most I can say for now.

Tom And Mel's Wedding

Thumbnail: Boardroom

Thumbnail: Glass of guiness

Thumbnail: Dinner table

Even before the wed­ding began, I had already unfairly decided that I wasn’t going to have a good time. Thank god I was wrong. My ini­tial feel­ing was based on the knowl­edge that cer­tain agi­tat­ing peo­ple were going to be there — a very tan­gi­ble reminder of why we moved under cover of dark­ness for the last Bancroft farm excur­sion — but there were enough nor­mal peo­ple to dilute any creepiness.

The cer­e­mony was short and sweet. The food was the best I’ve had in weeks, although my grad­ual recov­ery from viral gas­troen­teri­tis meant that I could only have half of the por­tions served. The com­pany at the din­ner table was friendly and open enough to address every­one sit­ting (Tolstoy wrote well about such a dif­fi­culty in Anna Karenina when he describes “a small table with per­sons present, like the stew­ard and the archi­tect, belong­ing to a com­pletely dif­fer­ent world, strug­gling not to be over­awed by an ele­gance to which they were unac­cus­tomed, and unable to sus­tain a large share in the gen­eral con­ver­sa­tion”). Aside from an idi­otic anal­ogy about aspara­gus, the speeches were gen­er­ally well-written; not too trite, and all the more poignant from the emo­tion with which they were spoken.

Aaron was there as my wing­man, ensur­ing a good time. Jenn was there as my date, mak­ing the guys jeal­ous. I even saw Christine, although we never had a chance to talk. Apparently, I missed every time she waved at us, so she may have thought that I was ignor­ing or avoid­ing her, which may be why she flicked my ear as she was walk­ing by my table. I still feel bad enough about miss­ing her last birth­day party.

Until din­ner there was an open bar, with Corona and even Guinness on tap, as well as a straw­berry mar­garita machine that could make them like smooth­ies. After din­ner was the danc­ing, and by the time the we were through a dozen or so songs, it was already late, so we headed home.

It Stopped Raining

It stopped rain­ing, and the grey sky has turned black with the night. The refresh­ing smell of wet pave­ment and grass drifts lazily through my win­dow, while droplets col­lect and fall from the over­hangs of every house, a dif­fer­ent sound with each vary­ing height and tex­ture. Cars drive by, and I imag­ine the spray from their tires ris­ing and falling in the light of the mild, golden street lamps.

In per­son, I’m gen­er­ally very pri­vate about my life, but I find myself open­ing up to the strangest peo­ple lately.

The most unex­pected ones seem to care.

The Power Of Freedom

I have an extremely dif­fi­cult time deal­ing with peo­ple who choose to com­plain about some­thing and do noth­ing about it. These are the peo­ple who gripe about the jobs that feed them, decry the rela­tion­ships they’re too scared to leave, pine for bet­ter lives when a bet­ter life is only a few steps away. Religious doc­trines of pre­des­ti­na­tion aside, as humans we’re the mas­ters of our fate. We con­trol what hap­pens, because we have the respon­si­bil­ity — the response abil­ity — to make change happen.

When the bad starts to out­weigh the good, then it’s time to shut the fuck up and be active in chang­ing the sit­u­a­tion. When the good is still greater than the bad, then it’s time to shut the fuck up and deal with what­ever minor prob­lems there are.

And when life hands you lemons, make lemon­ade, try to find a guy whose life has given him vodka, and have a party.