E: Everything is something even when it's not

Nice night tonight. Not sure if there's anyone out there, or even any world outside my own head; nothing unusual about that.

Forgive me a tad if the typing in this entry yields a few more typos than usual. I'm a tad buzzed, a state in which I rarely but not never write.

Today was a nice day. It was grim and overcast when I set out to get comics. As grey as that seemed, there was a cool lightness in the air and by the time I got to the lake, the clouds were about to pulls back to reveal a bright yellow sun and a warm day.

Earlier today, in fact before I had even woken up, Xena, my grandma's dog, had been dropped off. She is now in my care for the next 15 days, which is... well, a bit miserable. The way it works is that for the first week or so, I'll have to work doubletime trying to interpret her every fickle little demand. Then after that, she might chill out a bit and get used to my regiment (or at least the compromise we can't help but strike) and that comfort zone will last a few days before I become so overcome with exhaustion at her overly bitchy ways anyhow that I just go insane (all over again.) I can't even concentrate properly on this entry because of her barking in the background. One of her biggest hang-ups is her apparent inability to do stairs (??) but I'd be lying I didn't mention that what really gets me is her tendancy to snack out of the litterbox. Nevertheless, I've coaxed her down by now and for the moment she seems content just to lie on the couch (yep she can get on the couch, but stairs elude her.)

I learned this evening that my mom might be the world's first passive-aggressive driver. After feeling frustrated that a woman was idling (to let her husband out,) as she tried to pull out at the bank, she took a slow, deliberate time reversing as the woman tried to make a U-turn, effectively blocking her for a brief moment. This came moments after some rather vengeful parking (don't ask.)

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wanted to get out of the house because of Xena, but a reason had already been tailor-made prior to her arrival. Bryan M. had wanted to get a drink with me and, sensing I was in a rough spot, saw to it tonight was that night. We both arrived at the same time, or else he was sitting in his car waiting to spot me, which I doubt, and went in at 8:30ish. We sat at the bar and each ordered a Keith's. I had never had it before, being largely infatuated with gin for the last 6 months, but for whatever reason emulated his order and enjoyed it. Good beer.

We sat and shot the shit a while. We each got the other's thoughts on respective postsecondary experiences, what was next, what we ultimately wanted, how we rolled about it. Similar yet different, I think. Certainly not as dissimilar as I had pegged him as recently as Grade 11 Philosophy, but there are numerous distinctions anyone could tell, which always makes for a better conversation: when you think about the same things but differently a little.

The conversation ultimately turned to Guthrie; we were in the same class in the final acts of high school for Guthrie's Writer's Craft, and it had a deep effect on us both. We both discussed him reverently, noting how well he guided his students and how he got the ill-deserved label of being "unfair" with marks, and how in the years since no teacher has stacked up to him.

Around this time, the barmaid chimed in, "Guthrie? From White Oaks? The Drama teacher?" we nodded the affirmative, except now he just teaches English; she rolled her eyes and scoffed.

Bryan and I then noted how long he'd been around (no secret.) It reminds me of a dentist's appointment I'd had late in Grade 9. I must've just come out of my science exam or something, because I mentioned that to my hygienist as she made polite conversation. I mentioned I was at White Oaks and she asked if I had "Mr. Pear-Shaped Muhlstock?" I laughed and told her I did. In both cases, it seemed odd and a little sad to me that they had gone through however many years at WOSS, did whatever else, but by their mid-30's (I'm guessing) found their way only a few roads down from that very school. But if it works, you go with it. I don't know what I want, but I'd rather avoid a similar scenario.

Anyway, after we'd both killed off the pint (going the same pace) and watching or pretending to watch the J-World Cup Soccer games, we shook hands and parted. He offered to give me a lift home, but I told him that the "Don't drink and drive" campaign had been far too effective to allow me to go along (and yet years ago I very willingly sat as a passenger in the car of a very high-on-weed Emma.) He understood and didn't force it. Though I'm sure it's no big, I do hope he got home okay.

He mentioned at one point an admiration for the fact that I always seem to be working on something. I attributed that to my ability to put off things I should be doing in favour of whatever I want to be doing. And in some ways, that could be admirable, although it has the potential for as much harm as good because you get off track a lot easier if something desperately needs doing.

I think I'm going to leave the blog with that thought for tonight. I could go deeper if I had the wherewithall, but I'm mellowly buzzed-out and I'd rather not stress it by conjuring up any further thoughts on virtually anything. There's a lot I hope to cover tomorrow, but not all of it (or even that much) is timely or relevant, so don't get upset if it doesn't appear in tomorrow's entry... not like it'll make much difference to my wonderful readers anyway.

We must all cultivate our finest attributes and prune our worst.

I just made that up.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto