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It is 3:21 am, and it is possible that we are a little bit trashed.
Caitlin came up to visit this afternoon. She's going to drive me to Toronto tomorrow (today) after classes, so that I can meet up with my long lost friend Ni and go see Harry Potter with Jessa and her mum and my family on Saturday. It promises to be good, clean, wholesome fun.
Tonight, however, was not entirely good clean fun. We went to the Tir Na Nog, and I got a mite wasted. Three Strongbows in two hours, apparently, is too much. We will not repeat this again. At least for a few weeks.
On the plus side, this proved an ideal opportunity for me to get a fair impression of Geoff's new lady, Bitsy. She's not as vile as I thought she was on first meeting her (at my house party in September, when I was prehaps more smashed than I am right now, and significantly more depressed -- and hence significantly more cynical and critical). In fact, she's quite lovely. I highly approve of her dating Geoff.
The downside, though, is that I fear I talked too much once I got home. Tina was coming home just as I was, so we sat in the kitchen for a while talking about general depression, majoring in English (we're the two English majors of the house, and yet we've never bonded over it), and emotional insecurities. And somehow, she wormed my secret crush out of me. Well, it was a secret to her, at least. This is upsetting, as I always felt a certain separation from my house because I had secrets like this. I felt mysterious because I hadn't let them know everything about me in our few months living together. But now they know. I have nothing held back. I am completely open to them, and it makes me feel even more vulnerable than I did before. This is decidedly bad.
Maybe this will all be better in the morning, though. Maybe this is the sort of catharsis I need to be able to move past all my ideals of last year, to start afresh and begin life with a new appetite for... life, I guess. Cait, Geoff and I were talking about how I felt that there was nothing worth doing here, that I didn't feel drawn to anything in particular. Maybe this was the sort of sharing that I needed to do in order to move past everything I was holding on to and start involving myself in society once again.
Then again, maybe it's just anyother drunken night at 69 Mack Street. Who fucking knows.
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