X-2: Stopped at the green

So I've taken a few hours off, but here I am, back at the keyboard to try and make sense of last night. Was it glorious? Or soul-crushing?

All I know is that when I woke up this morning I wasn't sure if I was sober by then, hung-over, or still drunk. When it comes to hard liquor, I'm hardly the champ.

And to make matters worse, I had to go bowling... luckily, it was a "fun day" for halloween where the points don't really count and they turn on the "cosmic" lights. It also means we had to endure the worst music imaginable, which seems to be the sole qualifying factor to be played at Classic Bowl. (Frequently when I'm working, it's a switch between Shania Twain and Linkin Park -- two extremes of awful. And not just one song either, but long sets.)

But never mind that. It wasn't a horrible experience. Still trying to piece together the night before. I dashed from commencement over to Cary's. I arrived at the exact moment Ryan dropped off Becky and Ana (Ryan had to take Doug and his massive trophy home.) That's a good thing since I don't like showing up alone, even when I'm expected and welcome.

The evening was divided more-or-less into two parts. The first part, I call "sober," and was spent in the corner with Lauren Wing and Kyle (who actually do make an adorable couple,) as well as Chris Ferguson and Sonya (who, as near as I can figure, are not a couple, but adorable for their own reasons.) And you know, I wandered around, had fun, and managed to actually be upbeat and even, dare I say, charming. I was in a great mood, the best in me brought out by the atmosphere. Watched everyone try and get Chris Ferguson drunk, Becky get herself drunk, and Ryan Wheeler just watch drunks (he a driver himself.) And Lauren was tanked almost by the time I got there, but that's what we love about her. And Ana and I made conversation on a level few can match us on -- horribly neurotic personality disorders. Hah, that is, film geeks. And that neurotic one.

It was all going quite well, and then and then, during a very sudden introduction to one of Cary's Mac friends (whose name I have forgotten for reasons I will soon explain,) she realized she knew me -- for she's been reading this blog for lord knows how long. Which is when it really started to sink in that ths blog was a phenomenon beyond my comprehension, when people I didn't even know were checking it on a stalker-like basis (to use her description.) She decided it was a tragedy that I wasn't drunk, making it her mission to make me pour as much alcohol down my throat in as short a time as possible. Which I kinda did. Like I said, it wasn't the volume, just that it all happened at once. Moderation took a vacation last night. What was it I said back in May? "Beware of drunk girls who want you to get on even playing grounds with you, because they are armed with vodka." Not exactly the case, but the saying applies. All the while she explained to me that she was a stalker and that I'd been too depressed lately and I think she even blurted out that I was good-looking, but that was probably just a slip of the tongue. And then like that, she disappeared into a crowd, and left me in a bit of a stupor. This explains the forgetting of names, because naturally my concentration was off for the rest of the evening.

Not particularly fond of the feeling of being drunk. It's not a state for a physically mature male. I'm much more comfortable standing around laughing at drunk girls. It's less fun when I'm part of it (and that sentence is rarely used by nyone in history.) I'm just a sucker for anything a girl at a party tells me to do, like the quote says. Strangely, nothing of note happened for the rest of the night... a losing effort in Smash Bros. Melee (I couldn't find what, if any, was the control for throwing,) a conversation with Mike Cofini about the late-90's World Wrestling Federation, and a lot of propping myself up to keep from falling over.

Was it a great night? Definitely. And this time, I sincerely mean it, as opposed to last time when I had doubts. It doesn't seem to matter what's wrong with my life, because when you're in good company it reminds you of what you really have, and what I've just recently learned I have is some very good friends, though they are spread as far as Hamilton, Waterloo, Kingston and the GTA. Oh, and a blog that is read by millions and millions of obsessed fans.

Well, probably not, but there's just no way of telling.

I'm not gonna pull out the old "I'm comfortable with myself for the first time" chestnut, because it can't possibly be the first time. But I sure am secure with myself.

There are other things, I'll tell you, that I could whine about were I in such a mood, but my life makes for a fairly lame soap opera, since the only development is that things are exactly the same, and don't look as though they'll ever change. My biggest problem is that she and I have never properly agreed whether or not it is something. It's just sort of tacitly agreed that it can't be. Maybe this bothers her. On my off days, it eats away at me, but not at the moment.

Well on that note, thanks a lot everybody for tuning in. Won't you think of me once in a while?

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto