It's been a hell of a day, that much I can say for sure. It should have just been a nice slow chill out day with Claudia and Dylan before they left for Montreal, but it turned out to be their last day in Calgary, and a hectic one at that. I hope they're at the bus terminal by now.
As we found out at the tea house while Dylan was on this very laptop finishing up transfering his files onto the other one (he sold me this laptop for cheap this afternoon), Greyhound is going on strike Thursday at midnight. They weren't even planning on leaving the city before then say nothing about tonight. So it was weird enough walking down to the bus depot from there to find out if and when they could get home before the strike started, until I realized that it's practically two years to the day that I walked Sharalyn down there and out of my life for the last time. It's funny how you can put something out of your head completely for ages and then it just comes floating back up vivid as the day it happened. I think I'm going to end up with an intense hatred of bus depots or something. Nothing good seems to come out of them for me.
Being down there again just emphasized how much time has passed in two years. I mean it's easy enough to just look at a calendar or whatever, but to really think about who I am today compared to who I was in the moments after that last kiss. It was before Binary Culture, before Starbucks, before San Diego. It sounds terrible, but that walk back from the depot to the train stop to get to work (after staying up all night with her) was the first moment in over a year where I had to just live for myself again. All that time it was just about us, about being together. There wasn't much that was more prescient to me than remembering what to put in her coffee on the way to her place after work or hoping that she'd time it to be just out of the shower when I got there until then.
Now it's all about me and what I want. I think I've tried to make up for that year and a bit that we were together by doing as much as I can; reading stacks of books, going through several sketchbooks, picking up hours at work, going for the promotion to shift, taking on the EIC role at BC.
Christ, I had hair two years ago. In another two months I will have been bald for an entire year. I feel scruffy if I go two days without shaving these days, I can't even really properly remember what it's like to not be taking a razor to my scalp every morning, and I only have a handful of friends that either knew me before I did it or can even remember what I looked like themselves.
I have no idea where I'll be in two years. The future is fluid. It sucks that I'll be dealing with whatever comes next without Dylan and Claudia around, but when I said my goodbyes, I was and still am confident that this time I can face whatever comes next and face it down on my own.
As we found out at the tea house while Dylan was on this very laptop finishing up transfering his files onto the other one (he sold me this laptop for cheap this afternoon), Greyhound is going on strike Thursday at midnight. They weren't even planning on leaving the city before then say nothing about tonight. So it was weird enough walking down to the bus depot from there to find out if and when they could get home before the strike started, until I realized that it's practically two years to the day that I walked Sharalyn down there and out of my life for the last time. It's funny how you can put something out of your head completely for ages and then it just comes floating back up vivid as the day it happened. I think I'm going to end up with an intense hatred of bus depots or something. Nothing good seems to come out of them for me.
Being down there again just emphasized how much time has passed in two years. I mean it's easy enough to just look at a calendar or whatever, but to really think about who I am today compared to who I was in the moments after that last kiss. It was before Binary Culture, before Starbucks, before San Diego. It sounds terrible, but that walk back from the depot to the train stop to get to work (after staying up all night with her) was the first moment in over a year where I had to just live for myself again. All that time it was just about us, about being together. There wasn't much that was more prescient to me than remembering what to put in her coffee on the way to her place after work or hoping that she'd time it to be just out of the shower when I got there until then.
Now it's all about me and what I want. I think I've tried to make up for that year and a bit that we were together by doing as much as I can; reading stacks of books, going through several sketchbooks, picking up hours at work, going for the promotion to shift, taking on the EIC role at BC.
Christ, I had hair two years ago. In another two months I will have been bald for an entire year. I feel scruffy if I go two days without shaving these days, I can't even really properly remember what it's like to not be taking a razor to my scalp every morning, and I only have a handful of friends that either knew me before I did it or can even remember what I looked like themselves.
I have no idea where I'll be in two years. The future is fluid. It sucks that I'll be dealing with whatever comes next without Dylan and Claudia around, but when I said my goodbyes, I was and still am confident that this time I can face whatever comes next and face it down on my own.