Saturday, December 15, 2007

So last night...


Well, I graduated. I finally received the piece of pretty paper that now says to society I am an adult with potential to succeed. My potential to fail is assumed because I am young and a human being, but this paper encourages at least a second chance, my professors tell me.

I am happy about that.

What I am not happy about is last night turned out.
It started well enough, Sam and I met up with my family after the ceremony, had a late lunch, went back to my place, [censored], and got ready to meet friends as well as the night shift at the local dive.

Turns out, most of our people didn't make it, on account of the weather, which kinda bummed me out. It just ended up with 5 of us: myself, Sam, and our friends Andrew, Danielle, and Veal Chop*.

Long story short, we just drank and went through (what I'm sure is) the usual "What comes next?" conversations that happens after these things. Sam's still in school another year, and the others are already either moving or have begun their job search. I, on the other hand, have no idea. Sam never likes to hear that. She's the type that feels a script for life is absolutely necessary, even if it's just to keep everything random or to do nothing at all. If you are to do nothing, you must plan for nothing. One shouldn't attempt or risk anything they aren't positive they can achieve.

And hey, whatever, that's fine, but I'd much rather have my life come to me moment by moment. I am very much more interested in the means than the end of something. The journey towards any goal I have is always much more exciting than the goal. I know I talked about being psyched to graduate, but that's more because it opens up a whole new landscape of uncertainties, unpredictability, and all that shit. Fuck the victory, how did I run the race?

Anyway, I'm rambling. Later that night, Sam and I are sitting at the bar now, and she takes off to make a phone call. I'm reading a flyer for a show at the Guelph later this month and draining my 7th Labatt when the bartender comes by with a smile and a shot. She pours tequila. I hate tequila. It is the only shot I will refuse, even if offered. I take it anyway. It sucks.

As I'm coughing, Sam sits down, and asks "Why did she buy you a shot?". She did not sound happy, and a familiar sigh swelled inside as I said it was because I just graduated. I knew she had already made up her mind though.

And so, we got into a fight. Yelling without trying to be loud, all that shit. It happens everytime I get a shot from a girl bartender, even if the bartender gives one to her as well. She gets extremely jealous for reasons I don't even understand. I worked as a bartender when she met me, so I grew to know all the other bartenders in the area, most of which are female. To her, that translates to my having fucked all of them, before and after I met her. Or something, I don't even know. I do know it drives me fucking crazy.

And so we argue all the way home, shouting nonsense at each other; my trying to explain how it's just a shot, not a proposal, and her insistence that I was hitting on the girl when Sam left for the phone. Somehow, the argument turns to my not having plans after graduation, and

And whatever, she went off to her place and I to mine, too pissed and drunk to think straight. This happens way too often between us, and it's becoming absurd.


I can't tell right now if it's the alcohol or thinking about all of that that's making my head hurt worse right now.

Ugh, I need food.


*trust me, the name "Veal Chop" is way more interesting than the story of how he got the name...

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