Are we disks of ferrite-coated ceramic, waiting patiently to be spun until we are dizzy, and [then] altered so that yesterday never happened?

You were expecting more pictures, weren't you? Yes, I know you were. I've written hardly anything this month, yet the average number of pageviews per day is about 600-- an increase of more than 30% over last month. Well, ha ha, suckers! No more pictures today, just words.

Last night, I pulled a cup down from the cupboard for my midnight teatime. Large and white, I figured it was one of the cups I picked up from working at Stonybrook. It wasn't. I had pulled down my goldfish cup, instead. Bright and ironically colorful, it shows a surly looking goldfish floating in a terribly small fishbowl; the caption reads, "This sucks."

I giggled a bit. Yeah, this does suck, I thought. The real irony, though, is that the cup is one of The Things. You know, The Things They Gave You When Things Were Better. I held the cup for a little while, looking at the poor goldfish, thinking about how things really did suck, waiting for something-- the water to boil, perhaps.

And then I giggled some more. It really did suck, the way I was feeling, but, like always, my somewhat acrimonious humor had returned to help me through. I laughed at the irony, laughed at the goldfish, laughed at myself. Things are better now. It still hurts, for sure, but rather than the "blah blah blah I'm so alone blah blah blah whiny bastard" pain, it's more of the "bumper cars can hurt, for sure, but there's still fun to be had" pain.

I drank my tea, smiled a bit, and wrote an email to Lynette, whom I had been avoiding all weekend. I jotted down some notes on my Plan, brushed my teeth, and went to sleep.

Today-- today was good. Better than good-- today was great. On the way to school, someone was tailing me on South Rd. Maybe they weren't, really, but the roads were pretty bad, and it felt like they were tailing me. I got my sweet revenge, though, when I saw them fishtail on a patch of snow/ iced over road. (Dear Drivers, don't drive really fast over ice; and if you are going fast, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T USE YOUR BRAKES. Suckers. Love, Sean. P.S. Don't tailgate me-- it's rude, and bad for your karma, and you might cause an accident. Or have one.)

In the afternoon, I met with Lynette for a while. Have I mentioned how awesome she is? God, all my teachers are awesome. But Lynette, today, especially. She told me embarassingly funny stories that I would repeat here, but I think she wants to keep them private (at least that was the sense I got when she said, "Hang on; let me close the door before I tell you this."). A bunch of other good things happened in that meeting, and I left smiling. Those are the good tutorials, you know? The ones where you leave, and feel like you've just spent an hour and a half talking to a friend, rather than a professor. I love Marlboro so much sometimes it's servile and silly and sweet.

A few weeks ago, I ordered Left And Leaving. I'd been putting off buying the cd for a while (read: years), but decided I wanted the liner notes, and funky album cover art, and all those other things that come with being able to hold something in your hands. I decided I wanted to have it for the things that would happen. I'm smart; I knew things were happening, were going to happen; I noticed when things weren't said, when things were avoided; I knew the little things were fast becoming the only things left. I knew. But part of the magic, I think, is being able to know, and still not believe. To be able to pretend, for a little while at least, that things are still the same. Does that make me naive? Irresponsible? Disingenuous? Maybe-- a little. But would I have been better off otherwise? I can't imagine how. I wouldn't have written things like this:

It's strange how these things are; how there is so much certainty mixed with so much uncertainty. It's strange how much I worry about tomorrow, but somehow, despite myself, I can sit here, watching her read, and feel more calm and content now then I've felt in a long time.

I would have been unsocial and discontent and not responsible for things like this. I wouldn't have bought a pack of Noah's Ark stickers that were a delightful addition to a letter I wrote my little sister last night-- a letter I'm sure will cause her to jump up and down, and squeal with joy.

No, I can't imagine reason providing me with anything better than irrational belief did. And it was nice for that little while. The belief faded, though, the reason took hold, and yesterday, my cd came; it was quite timely. The package was full of so much stuff that I didn't order, too. Buying directly from a label is cool like that-- how they just throw other things in there. I got a cassette of Fallow (which would be nice if I had a cassette player), a bunch of stickers, and a Left and Leaving poster. It was so amazingly cool. It is cool. I am cool.

All night restaurant, North Kildonan
Lukewarm coffee tastes like soap
I trace your outline in spilled sugar
Killing time, killing hope
-The Weakerthans

This still sucks. I'm still hurting. But things get better with time.