pt XX: I would gladly take your hand

It's kinda funny. I've been so wrapped up in the details of my life lately that I haven't had much time to really stop and think about "it." To pontificate on the greater meaning of things.

Considering almost nothing happened today, I think I might do that

February 22nd was somebody's birthday... Randi's, to be precise. I only note that to say that last year, I was not in the best of places, and sent her an e-mail greeting, just to basically say "haha, I told you I'd remember your birthday," even though we'd been broken up for about 6 months. Obviously, I didn't do that this year, because I'm not an idiot. Because of that one e-mail, she very nearly came back into my life and I very nearly let her. I'm not the kind of guy who's up for a backslide, or an easy deal. Take note of that. It doesn't always work in my favour - the number of girls I've been seen with since confirms that - but this way I can live with myself, knowing I resisted when I could've had the cheap, easy deal. A lesson I still use to this day.

That said, I do wonder what she's up to. The pessimist in me (or "realist," depending on how I feel - it all seems the same,) thinks she may have hooked up with another objectionable young fellow who is not worthy of her. Don't get me wrong, she was a very nice girl and deserved a guy who could give her attention. That's why it didn't work. She also said that after "us," she was going to take a break from guys... of course, whether that lasted a year and a half, I doubt.

I was in the car with Anisah last night, and she was telling Robyn this anecdote about getting asked out, and... well, it's hard to describe exactly what I thought about that. I kind've laughed about it. Not at her, and not at the guy, but just at the universe, for making such a desirable girl so aversed to dating. At least, it seemed to me that she was still aversed. The way she was telling the story, the asking out seemed more like a punchline than a climax. Then again, I've been known to misinterpret. If she did indeed agree to go out with me -- and as I recall, she technically did -- then it could likely happen again.

My only regret on that front was bad timing. Everytihng I did was timed wrong, because it took me so long to get over myself. I've spoken to her a number of times since -- at New Year's/Scott's Going Away part One, last night and some other times. I like it. We're back where we started, which is probably where we belong. Bored friends chatting over lunch.

If one thing did bother me, it was her remark that this town isn't really home anymore; because it's true, and the truth is seldom an easy thing to deal with. It just makes me feel like I'm in a state of arrested development (I love that expression, and not just because of the series... but mostly.) Everyone's getting out of this town, and I'm gonna be here a while. At least I still have Kyle, Ana, and the grade 11's (future grade 12's... weird.) And it's not like I haven't got any friends at school. I just don't know how much time I'll spend hanging out with Mansoor, Joe and Haasim when the year's done.

"Here I am again in this mean old town / and you're so far away from me."

If you're reading this, Peaches, that Dire Straits reference was for you.

Doug in Toronto, Becky probably joining him, Cary, Chrisbrown and Steph in Hamilton, Ryan... where? I'm not sure how his stuff works, but it could be Waterloo or someplace else. Scott, obviously, in New York. Anisah and some others in Kingston. Alyssa could be moving anywhere at any moment... heh. Where am I gonna go? And when? And under what circumstances? I've got a year of Sheridan left. I won't know what to do with myself after that. It's not important to think about at this moment. Or perhaps, it's too terrifying.

Today was a genuinely good day, a preview of what I'm going to have going for me during the upcoming reading week (and perhaps, ensuing strike? Yes? We'll see.) I sat down and wrote my profile assignment. Then all I had to do was copy edit and hand it in. Half of my time was spent eating a Tim Horton's Chicken Salad sandwich, which wasn't the best sandwich I ever had, but I was craving and had the gift certificates.

Then I realized, after handing it in, that it had a massive typo/factual error in the very first paragraph, that I didn't catch. Anal-retentive bastard that I am, I actually e-mailed Roy Wilson to say "yeah, I wanted to let you know I knew about that. If I didn't say it, it would be eating away at me all break." And it's so true. It already happened with John Clarke's stupid test that wouldn't let me retrieve the archive. Jerk.

But it was a wholly relaxing day. I played video games a lot and walked through mud. I'm getting along well.

Oh, except one last thing: these guys showed up to fix the phone, and talked to me as though I were the owner of the house. "Did you have any work done here?" "Call Rogers for that" et cetera. Yeah, I'll be sure to do that... jerks.

It's always something. You can't stop it. A teacher once told me not to "sweat the small stuff" (it was a book she read from, a la "Chicken Soup for..." entitled "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff") but I'm the opposite. I do sweat the small stuff, and only the small stuff. Big stuff doesn't bother me, it's the little things that make up the tapestry of my anxiety. Big things just don't faze me. Maybe that means there's something wrong with me.

Well, I'm gonna send it out on that note. Hope I did my duty tonight. Hope you're all well.

Keep on rockin'
-El Williams