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