My Kind of Lullaby...

Alright... as much as I've been procrastinating and trying to avoid it, it occurs to me that an update would be kind of nice sometime. So... What's going on with me? Jeeze, what *is* going on with me? Well...

Montreal was awesome. Got to see Dave, got to meet the Chris who is not I, and found him to be exactly the kind of Chris I would like to be were I not already exactly the kind of Chris I want to be. Almost every one of the kids in Molson (Dave's Residence) were absolutely awesome... It's really swaying me towards going to McGill. We'll see... we'll see.

The concert was incredible. Philadelphia was not, and Greyhound can go suck a dick, but... I'm not upset at it, actually. It certainly was an adventure... or at least a damn good test of patience. We had such ridiculous runs of bad and then good luck... missing busses, busses being late, not having tickets to the concert, getting into the concert anyway, getting great seats and getting some sleep, not managing to die... That was all good. The concert itself... my God. The Dropkick Murphys were awesome, extremely awesome, and I actually went crowd-surfing for the last song in their set... But Flogging Molly man. They were... holy shit. Just awesome. I need to see them at every available opportunity now. The vibe in the two sets was subtly different, but in just such a way that... well, it was incredible. I fainted while I was in the crowd at one point, but I was so packed in (the littlest guy there) that I stayed afloat, as it were. They played pretty much every song I could've asked for too. Got a good shirt, got the Flogging Molly documentary, felt what it was like to actually be so tired that you want to die... Dave and I decided that we would never go that far to see a concert again, but... I think I would. Yeah... I would. I love adventures.

What else? There's school... Apparently Mother and I have to go in and speak to the Principal tomorrow, because they want to kick me out for being gone last week. Assholes. I'm super excited for Grade 9 Guitar... I have so many things that I want to learn how to play. It's going to be raaaaaaaad.

Things with a certain girl are... well, she's happy. That's good, right? We had an MSN conversation a few nights ago, while I was still in Montreal, and if I said it didn't hurt, I'd be lying, but if I said it hurt a lot, well that would be a lie as well. It was okay, because I was surrounded by friends (yeah... I was, wasn't I?) and alcohol and there was the promise of a wonderful night ahead... But when I got home today, and read her latest LJ entry, I broke into a sweat, my words caught in my throat... I was upset. It was very upsetting. But... what can you do, man? Roll with this punch... She's happy. That *is* good. I really do care about her, and thus I really am quite happy that she is happy. As for me... I'm just making it up as I go along.

Met some damn cool girls at McGill though.

Oh, man, saw a fight... was it last night? I guess it was. A bunch of guys outside a club... I immediately ran over, food still in my hand, to help break it up, and I saw the two guys on the ground fighting, and one guy above kicking one of the downed guys... and rage just boiled over in me for a moment. I wanted to kill him. I was going to kill him, and he never would have even seen his attacker before my thumbs would reach up and find the sockets of his eyes... and I stopped. And I turned around, and I ran to the nearest alley, and I began dry heaving onto the pavement. For one blinding moment of pure animal rage, I was the man I once had been, wild and terrifying, and some subconscious response was triggered, so strong that I felt sick to my stomach. I don't know how I managed to build up that last defense, but I am certainly glad. But for the rest of the night... I was gone. I shivered, and I stared at the ground, I didn't really speak, and I didn't really listen... because I was still there. It all was running through my mind, over and over... what I had seen, what I had done, and what I would have done... I was still there.

Next fight I see, I am breaking it up. I used to do it... Ireland changed me. I let myself slide back a bit, and now I pay the price. It's something to work on... I'm just damn impressed that my body cooked up its own little fall-back plan and didn't tell me about it.

Man, a whole long month of sobriety ahead of me. Did I tell you? I'm detoxing for a month... letting my body heal up a bit, let my mind get used to the idea that drinking is not something I *need* to do... because I have gotten way, way too comfortable with abusing alcohol and using it as a solution to my problems, one which really doesn't work as often as I would like. So, this month is really a test... and I'm torn. One part of me says I have to do this, to prove it to myself. One part of me says I do not have to do anything or prove anything to *anybody*, and I should do what I damn well please. So... this is going to be an interesting month.

So what's my emotional state as of recently? I've been pretty happy. I'm kind of depressed to be back in the grind... University life was fun, for a while. I'm lonely, I really am... I still feel like, just recently, I had this wonderful chance and then... it was gone. I'm still left with the memories and the vague imprints of those feelings... that happiness like no other, not necessarily better, but different. And better. I think that's my main problem these days... so, that considered, I'm doing damn well over here.

Remind me I need to go to the doctor for various things. Until then, vaya con amour, my dearest friends.