Time lag

Time is acting oddly, expanding and contracting as the next phase creeps slowly towards me and simultaneously overtakes me from behind. I feel this ephemeral summer slipping away, and a part of myself wishes it would never end; the predictable unpleasantness of the nine-to-five, the sullen and sometimes cold side of myself that emerges each evening, waking up at strange hours wondering where I am, my back stiff, overheated from a strange and fleeting dream. At the same time, the next step cannot approach fast enough. I cannot wait for an end to this bizarre limbo, the heat of Vancouver in summer, my reluctance to bother creating a lasting niche for myself and waves of a feeling akin to disgust with the transient nature of it all.

As a consequence, I feel that nothing happens worth posting, but realize that I haven't written since Thursday and kick myself, typing away to spite Vancouver. So since Thursday...

Spent Friday at a placement, which was great if a little nerve-wracking. My coworker was chatty and friendly and in the midst of a somewhat obsessive pseudo-relationship, so spent most of my time dissecting it. I appreciated the frank and honest girl talk, and found myself wishing her and I were friends. Knowledge that this was fleeting and that I was too far gone from this place kept me from pushing that envelope. Friday evening began as a giant bust, and continued as such until very late, almost too late to be salvageable. My rage subsided as I rode on the bus, thinking at the very least I would get a good sleep that evening. Luckily, that sort of thing wasn't in the cards. My desire for a wild night would be fulfilled. I must say, as much as we don't keep in touch or really hang out or even talk, he is a good friend. Anyone who insists, funnel in hand, that if you are going to do something wrong (ie: funnel beer) you had better do it right (ie: multiple beers in said funnel). The end result involved pointless nudity and a nearby park. Then he and I watched a strange cartoon about pirates, far too drunk. I will likely not see him or speak to him for another four years.

My weekend seems so short now, looking back. Ran errands and tried to get my life under control. Smoked too much pot and ate too much as a result. Spend Sunday with a food hangover. One suitcase almost full, I have no idea how I will get all my things over there, let alone get anything back… and there is so much to think about that I can’t actually think about until I am there, which is frustrating because I am a control/planning freak.

On an aside, I am mildly concerned now that my trip-eroo to Montreal might not go over as I had hoped, that I might end up more upset than anything by returning to somewhere that I left on such a high note. I also made the mistake of getting hopes up about it, and now I think I am bound to be let down. I still can’t wait to go, if nothing else, my flight out there will surely start time flying again, and mark the beginning of the next phase.