ouijaprofile (ouijaprofile) wrote,
ouijaprofile
ouijaprofile

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Minutiea et cetera.

With my first free week ahead of me in what seems like generations, I have a million things I'd like to do, a million things on my plate and, in all likelyhood, a million hours of sleep that will be caught up on instead. It would be deeply unfortunate to waste spring break doing as little as possible (that's why summer's were invented, after all), but I'm not going to dillude myself into believeing I'll get everything I want out of the next seven days. Just the same, I should damn well try.

Things actually started out pretty well (for myself, at least) Saturday night/Sunday morning, as my dear friend Devon celebrated his nineteenth birthday. As a man definitely lacking command and organizational skills, you can expect how drunken celebrations generally turn out at his place. By the time I showed up at 11pm, there were not one, but two people as drunk as I have ever seen them, and I was rewarded with being able to play maid, nurse and nanny after the inevitable stomach fireworks. Honestly, I don't mind, since I myself kept going in between cleaning blood out of the carpet and checking on my charges; it's something of a point of pride that I have to be the one who keeps things in order among my friends, because that means I'm the one who can handle his shit.

I hang out with this particular "crew" fairly often, and it's one of those cases where everybody there are the friends of my friend, but not really my own friends. I don't mind them, per se, but they're not really people I fit in with. I appreciate the ability of alcohol to equalize on this front - when you're drunk, everybody gets to be your peer group. I did, however, have the pleasure of meeting one of Devon's friends I was rather impressed by, a fellow by the name of Justin that he hasn't spoken of in glowing terms. I can understand why, probably because he's the sort of general delinquent who exists on the edge of Devon's comfort zone for people he's friends with. It worries me - not a whole lot, but it still tweaks a bit in my mind - that it's the fringe guys he knows I get along with so much better; due in no small part, of course, because he had some pretty wicked bud, too. As I get older, I really do find myself a lot more comfortable around that outside edge, and I think the only thing that makes me worry is that I never imagined that happening. I know it's just my irresponsible hedonism acting up, but goddamn. I like the outside edge.

They say that as a person, that is to say, our personalities, don't stop developing until about twenty-five. They also say that our judgement is the last part of psyche to be fully-formed. Additionally, once it has, the person you've become stays pretty constant from that point on. I believe that, mostly because I've experienced probably the most radical shift in my judgement I've ever had over the last two-three years. Knowing that, I can't help but be curious to know if my increasingly erratic state of mind is a latent thing that I repressed during all the time I kept to myself, is an allergic reaction to the massive amounts of new stimuli in my life, or is just how I would have developed if I had gone to high school. I always imagined that if I had done that, I would be a completely different person than I am now... but I'm actually not entierly sure anymore. I suspect the answer is that it's a combination of all three ideas, and the real question is whether or not it's permanent, or just a brief retort to years of ennui. Either way, I enjoy the way it affords me the chance to be a better raconteur, if nothing else.

you and i must fight to survive
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