In the middle of this heat wave has come a hailstorm that’s dented the shit out of every panel of my car, followed by a series of uncharacteristically cool nights. I slept with the windows open, and the breeze kept me content to be wrapped in my duvet until waking.
It may as well be a lazy Sunday morning in Autumn as I write this, sitting by the warm light coming through the blinds, waxing nostalgic about more than I care to admit. I’ve been trying to write, but I don’t know what I’ve been feeling lately.
Maybe it’s cause I haven’t had time to think. And it’s only going to get busier in the foreseeable future. I’d like to spend more time alone, but that seems a luxury that’s quickly disappearing. When I’m trying to nurture the relationships that are important to me, it’s hard to refuse a hangout, and making regular plans quickly fills the week.
Tiana taps two swamps to add two black mana to her mana pool, and increase her sexiness to nerds everywhere by 500%.
Probably a good thing, cause I also feel like I’ve been spending too much time alone during my bouts of introversion.
It’s also been a while since I stepped out of my comfort zone. I guess I did enough traveling last year to know where my boundaries are. Since returning from my sojourn in the Old Dominion, I’ve been too comfortable, and slowly I’m being forced out of it as life catches up with me. But I know I can handle things, cause I’ve done it before.
So I’m trying to enjoy what I have now, caught somewhere between day and night, isolation and over-stimulation, work and play, summer and fall.
There’s nothing in this world you can’t turn into heroin.
—Get Him to the Greek
At our last draft, Steph asked me what was new. It was weeks since we played, but nothing came to mind, and it felt strange to have no updates at all. It was only a few months ago that things fell apart. Things had been changing quickly ever since.
And then, all of a sudden, stability.
Meanwhile, I’ve picked up an obsession with sorting my Magic cards. Darren came by a few weeks ago and he gave me his collection, which we both started around high-school. I have about 8000 cards now, ordered by rarity, colour, block, and alphabetically, which took me the greater part of a week. There’s no denying how satisfying it is to have a neat and organized set, where I can quickly find a card instead of going through random handfuls.
I also started watching Cops, seasons 20–24, non-stop. A strange addiction for a reality TV show that’s no doubt biased in favour of law enforcement and against low-income citizens, but not glorified with a narrator, a soundtrack, or any monetary incentives. After watching the same episodes a few times, I feel like I have some intimate insight into the people who choose to break the law, and those who make careers out of stopping them.
They’re signs that I’m a glutton now, having to lose myself in something, whether it’s being productive or social or happy.
Love used to be my drug of choice, but nowadays it’s anything I can get.
Byron’s over a year old now, which means he’s officially an adult in kitty years. I’ve given up on my dream of having another big cat to cuddle, as he’s retained stocky limbs and long tail, but grown into a small and slender body.
Dolly more than makes up for that though, even though she’s still a little sore at me for bringing him home. She’s nowhere near as tolerant to my teasing as before, but she’s still social and still nestles against my chest when she’s in the mood (usually during naps, never at night nowadays).
Disguised in this innocent yawn is a silent roar from the killer within.
My relationship with Byron is very different from the one I share with Dolly. She’s a cat who appreciates the love and attention I give her, and she shows me this with every nuzzle and purr.
Byron, on the other hand, is more of a pet; a cat who’s nice to have around, but who doesn’t interact with me on the same level. He has a few social habits — hanging out with me when he knows it’ll soon be meal time, or jumping on me for a nice rubdown when he hears me stirring in bed as I’m waking up — but that’s usually as far as it goes. I’ve tried to nourish a stronger bond with him by practicing controlled feeding and making sure I pick him up several times a day, but he’s always remained a kitty of his own.
How is it July already. Jew-lie.
My anchors are the people I spend time with; the only reason for me to remember the days of the week. Otherwise, I’d lose track of time as the summer slips through my fingers.
It feels like I’m living the same life I had back in my apartment on Lees, soon after graduation; unemployed, single, keeping myself busy, co-habitating with two cats, not going out much, not having any long-term goals, and not over-thinking things. I’m doing what I want. My needs are being met. I’m investing in the right kinds of relationships. I’m enjoying things as they are now, instead of trying to chase a sense of happiness in the future.
This means I get to focus on one project at a time. Being able to lose myself in something for days is a luxury I’ve rarely had. I think I’ve always preferred to work like this, but having a 9–5 job tends to get in the way.
My eyes go straight to one line.
At the same time, I feel completely oblivious to some things. I don’t have cable, so I can’t remember the last time I saw a commercial. I never know what movies are out. I’ve started seeing parodies of popular songs before I hear the originals.
I used to be afraid that these were signs I was losing touch with the world, turning into an old man, but I don’t mind anymore. There’s so much shallow consumerism, celebrity obsession, and disposable culture out there, and I don’t want anything to do with any of it.
I’ll just live in my little world, big enough to get lost in.