Another bus ride back to the apartment today. Hopefully it’ll be under five hours; the ride here was just over the six hour mark due to large scale, poor weather conditions. I’m tempted to bring an extra strength Sleep-Ez to make the ride go by faster if there are any delays, but my experience with one earlier this way has swayed me against it. It was the first time in my life I took a sleeping pill, and I felt almost mechanically, medicinally drowsy. John called me in the middle of sleep, and the only thing I remember is taking the call, and telling him that I had to hang up because I was too focused on staying conscious to listen to anything. For some reason, I’ve always found it extremely easy to stay conscious, but the Sleep-Ez is the first thing that has ever overcome this ability. The only time in my life that I have ever passed out was during a weekend this summer, due to the influence of certain inebriants. The Sleep-Ez would be twice as worse, and if anything were to happen where I need to be awake while travelling, I wouldn’t be able to function.

This is the ritual.

We meet. Usually by Greyhound.

We get stoned. In the car, in the park, or in the apartment.

This is what we’ve been saving for. What we’ve chosen to deny ourselves of, until the present company, so that the experience is more intense. The reason why we’ve withheld for so long.

We introduce to each other what we’ve discovered on our own. Songs. Videos. Experiences.

There is no pride. No bias. No judgment.

We cherish these times. These weekends. These memories.

When we can grow from one another.

Because we’ve grown from ourselves.

Some people turn to pills and things
To help them through the day
To take them up or down or just
To ease the blues away
But me I really want to feel
The ups and downs of life so real
Happy or sad emotions reign
My tears flow just the same

—Lamb, I Cry

I had been trying to write this for nearly a month, but couldn’t get it down until I really listened to the lyrics of I Cry on the walk home past the power lines. I decided to split this up into two separate entries, after realizing that I have two similar ideas in my head, but two very distinct issues. Perhaps it just took a few extra rough days of work to force me to think about this. All the things falling apart that I have to fix, responsibilities, deadlines, and tons of other miscellaneous things are definitely making me think of ways to get the tension out of my arms and shoulders.

Sometimes, when I come home, all I want to do is get piss drunk or mindlessly stoned. Maybe go recklessly buy a bunch of things I don’t need, to make myself feel better for that little amount of time. Sometimes I just feel like doing something irrational, even though I have no idea what or why, simply because I believe it would get my mind of things. And yet I don’t do any of this, especially when I’m having a particularly bad day, because I don’t want to be dependent on anything.

I don’t want to rely on narcotics, or material goods, or self-mutilation, or anything at all to make myself feel better. I want to be sure that I can handle things, no matter what, on my own. I force myself to feel every stressful, miserable, forlorn emotion, so that I know that I can get through them.

Sometimes, every day can be a test. Music and writing are the only things that I allow myself.

And sometimes I have to tell myself that it’s enough.

Last year, I went to a Halloween party dressed as a Super Trooper with Aaron and Wheaties (I have only recently acquired the image), and wound up being drunk out of my skull. I tried not to make the same mistake this year, and seeing as how I don’t really drink anymore, it wasn’t much of a problem.

Instead, Aaron and Karen hosted a small gathering, which I attended, where homemade chicken pot pie was served, and no one dressed in costume.

Tim Hortons is doing its seasonal doughnut, which is a funky looking doughnut with bat and pumpkin sprinkles.

Unfortunately, I had to miss out on a pumpkin carving party, due to a fairly stressful week causing a lack of desire to socialize. Trolley did the Cheat from Homestar Runner, and it turned out pretty well.

Went home for the weekend, spent it with Darren. It was a gloomy few days; cloudy, humid, and generally uncomfortable.

At one point, Darren asked me if it felt like home, or whether my apartment here has taken the role. I couldn’t really answer him at the time. I just knew that they feel different. We lit up in a park that I used to play in while I was still in elementary school, and it felt odd to be stoned in a beautifully empty playground in the middle of Saturday, surrounded by all these upper-middle class houses with their pools and patios. Places that aren’t comfortable, but familiar.