In my room in my chair at my desk, cigarette in hand, looking at you...
I've been here so many times before and yet I'm in limbo...
Yesterday tore me in all directions at once. I can't remember my name today... I slept in, it's almost noon, there were a million things I have to get done today, and I don't know where I'm sleeping tonight.
Let's start somewhere that makes sense and see if I can work this out. Migraines be damned, you'll not stop me...
Yesterday. Marc, angry that we never have lunch together, stood me up for lunch. At the same time, Julie invited me out for Sushi. I *can't* say no to Sushi...
It was lovely. We talked about geeks being the ultimate form of human potential, and how maybe the uber-geeks who've made it so far should now make time for the *other* things in life... Y'know, the aesthetic bits. Extremes are grand, but when it comes to living I want to taste *everything*. Focus on the important things, but still be able to look at myself in the mirror.
I left work, having accomplished much, feeling good that I was on a roll.
Then I get to class. Erik's not there, he's dropped the class. You know that sense of foreboding? It's got this way of hitting you REALLY hard sometimes.
So I sit back, and clench my teeth. Then I get my arbitrarily marked midterm back. %50, that's a pass, but looks like with the assignments I've skipped I'm going to fail...
BOOM, and the world is spinning. CRASH BANG insert your own onomatopeia here. These are my *last* four credits. Or were supposed to be. Y'know, end of my degree, end of four years working and studying and being crunched to bits by time...
I had so many plans for after graduation. If I don't pass this class, next time I'm allowed to apply for graduation is NExT YEAR.
It's been a long time since I've felt like such a failure.
I panic.
I leave class.
I e-mail Steven, wailing and crying for help, and then call Erik.
He invites me over for a hug, and I boot it up to an area of MonStreal I haven't been to in years. Just north of McGill, you have to climb this median in the road to get to his building...
He gives me a hug and squeezes my hand and the piles of junked computers in his appartment make things seem alright.
Hassan, the arab from Thursday night, shows up. We talk about my stint in Tzahal. After some bigoted yelling I think we clicked a bit more. *shrug*
So I took last night off and ran away from everything. (I'm sorry, cf, we actually drove past you guys when you were walking out of l'Etranger... Why didn't you call?) We went CD shopping, something I haven't done in ages. We saw a movie in some hollywood-approved theatre. (The ninth gate, I hadn't heard of it but it was fun to watch, especially with Erik massaging my hand until I didn't think I'd be able to sit still anymore... Wow but he has good hands...)
At midnight they dropped me off at the subway and I thought of cf and Nick and Meghan and then thought of all the shit I ws supposed to do today as of 8am... And walked through the turnstiles instead of turning around to head over for a pint.
I popped my new Louise Attaque CD into my ears and watched the giggling, spoiled, teenage girls all the way home...
Where I promtply fell asleep in tears despite the fact that I didn't have to see my parents (they stood me up), that I spoke to Pierre and he's going to try to help me find a lift up on Sunday so I have tonight to work, despite the fact that Steven e-mailed me back so promptly...
I'm going to see if I can get those four assignments done for Friday. Maybe I'm still a hero, inside...
But I feel like such a failure. And it *hurts*.
And I miss you.