Monday, October 06, 2003

and the transfer is final

We've moved!
And, oh, the agony of it all!
No internet since Thursday afternoon.
No network last Friday.
Much stricter office.
And a much smaller workarea.
With no keyboard tray yet.

aak! I must learn...
  • not everyone is trustworthy, maybe even someone whom you think is your friend (I don't want to believe the above because I like all my friends)
  • a kiss is still a kiss, but it may mean different things to different people
  • my subconscious self that seems to come out after a few shots of alcohol could be a better, more morally upright person
  • to stop obsessing over something that seems to have no meaning at all and about which no one else is obsessing
  • to be careful not to fall in love with the wrong person and for all the wrong reasons YET AGAIN
Oh well.

Ger-ber going
Byebye Ger-ber. Will miss you for the next two weeks.

Friday night. You take a few beers after years without a tinge of alcohol. Inhibitions lost, the stage is set for waking up on Saturday morning with a hangover of a quite different sort, the last of which you thought you'd experienced when you were much younger and foolhardy.

Friday night. The hangover starts then. It's that sinking feeling you get after you do something infinitely stupid and live to tell the tale. Of course, people never do set out to do something infinitely stupid. It always seems like a good idea at the time. So you go out and do it. And right smack in the middle of it, you recoil in stunned disbelief, almost in horror. What have you done?

You get saved by the proverbial bell from doing something that you would further regret, but that doesn't really seem to matter because you have already crossed the line. And then you think about why you did it in the first place. Of course as they always say, alcohol does not make you forget yourself so that you don't know what you're doing--instead you just lose your inhibitions. And you spend quite a few minutes thinking what was it inside you that made you behave that way, and was it something that you really wanted in the first place. You gasp inwardly as you come to the conclusion that it was; somewhere deep inside you despite your exhortations to the contrary, it was something you actually wanted to happen.

Aside from you, only a select few know what really happened that night, which is maybe what worries you more--that someone else was in on it with you. And you rely on them to keep up their end of the deal and not talk. It is something like a gentleman's agreement but it seems you have more to lose. You wonder if they will ever talk; you wonder how their perception of you changed; and you wonder if it changed their opinion of you--because you wonder (worry) about those things, trivial as it may seem to others.

So you just have to face the consequences of your actions. You deal. And because it's a well-kept secret, you have to deal with the hardest of things: the knowledge of the deed and your own conscience. Because so much can be lost on the actions of just one night, and we almost always find out in hindsight.

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