I guess I should start the Friday report with the weather.

Around 3:00 is when the tornado warnings and severe thunderstorm warnings started hitting the area. I was working, but some people glued themselves to the local radar pages on the Internet. I overheard some people talking about tennis ball-sized hail in Georgetown. Even though these things are usually an exaggeration I used it as an excuse to leave and go see if my house had any busted windows or skylights.

It must have been a different Georgetown, because there was no hail at my house. The few leaves that have made an appearance this Spring are still on the trees, and any hail at all would have torn them down.

So I took a nap on my couch, and woke up at 7:30 to the sounds of my phone ringing and thunder rumbling. The call was from my sister, but when I tried to call her back I got no answer. I figured she was calling to make sure I knew about the weather, because when I turned on the TV there were huge red blobs all over the radar.

Nothing much happened at my house though. Just a lot of rain - and even the rain wasn't that impressive.

Once the red blobs had all moved East of me I took a shower and went to Rich O's.

The place was fairly full, and it seemed more full than it was because a lot of the PBDs were just standing around getting in everyone's way. I sat at the loveseat and had myself a BBC Jefferson's Reserve Bourbon Barrel Stout (100) and talked with HotEuchreGirl for a bit.

WomanRepellant came in and we bullshitted some too. He told me at first that HatGirl had been in last Friday, so I spent a few agonizing minutes torturing myself with thoughts of her being at Rich O's but not talking to me, but then we figured out that she had really been in on Saturday when I was at SassyGirl's party, so the suicide has been postponed.

That was a joke.

My second beer was a new one they're brewing at Rich O's:

NABC St. Radegund Bitter (10)

(cask) I guess I was expecting something bitter. You know, because of the name of the beer. This wasn't bitter at all. The aroma was malty and a little flowery. My first impression of the flavor was that it was watery. That watery impression did fade by the time I finished the glass. This beer is very easy to drink. Not my favorite though.

My last beer was going to be another half-pint of the BBC bourbon stuff (104), but MixedSignalGirl called me so I only had a few sips.

I talked to her last night.

I traded text messages with her today.

I saw her tonight.

I am completely blown away by the stark and glaring realization of what I've ignored and brushed aside in my blind rush to a place that I could never reach and that I never wanted to go to in the first place.

Fortunately, happiness is not completely subjective. I can see and I did see the optimism and the delight and the well-being in her eyes tonight. I am so happy for her, and so a part of me is happy for myself.

It was a good thing, the honesty I shared with her. It might even be the best thing I ever did.

It will take time to fully accept what it is that I've ignored and turned my back on. But time is something that I seem to have plenty of lately.

It might be the best thing I ever did.

But right now, right now it feels like the worst.

Stolen from laideehawk

And, on that note, I'm going to bed now.

I'm thinking tonight about how disconnected I seem to be from things that, up until a short while ago, were such an integral part of my existence.

It's almost exactly the same feeling I get when I drive past my grandmother's old house. The memories of that house are all inside me, and I can dredge them up whenever I want to, but I guess I don't really see the point right now.

I remember being in that place, belonging in that place, so long ago, but I don't belong there anymore. There's a definite disconnect between my memories of that life and the sense of self that I use to define me at present.

My memories of being in that house, no matter how moving or vivid those memories might be, those memories will never and can never come close to recreating the experience of being there. That feeling of home that I felt even more strongly than I did with my actual home.

Similarly, that dark place inside my own head, where I spent so much of the recent past, while certainly less tangible than the old house where my grandmother would always have cookies to eat and stories to tell and ABC macaroni in a big pink bowl whenever I wanted it, that dark place was as real to me as any physical place could ever be.

And, like a physical place, it's possible to leave, either by force or by choice. That dark place is not me and that means that I can exist separately from it.

My mind drives past, and I remember what it was like in that place. What once seemed to be such a huge part of my life I now look at from the outside and it just seems so fucking small and unsubstantial. I think about how if I were to go back inside, those walls would once again become my world. My entire existence would be contained within those walls which would comfort me and make me feel so at home.

Problem is, I'm not sure that I belong there anymore.

If I did everything that you think I should do, and I did them the way you think they should be done, then you'd have to find something else to be all smug and self-righteous about.

I'm doing you a favor by being imperfect in your eyes.

Also, get over yourself.

SassyGirl finally managed to send me these pics she took Saturday night:

This was before they made me put on the hat.

Me and SassyGirl. The hat was her idea.

SassyBoy joined us for the next picture.

Then SassyBoy's boyfriend joined us.

This me trying to look like I really don't know what happened to the hat.

If I did everything that you think I should do, and I did them the way you think they should be done, then you'd have to find something else to be all smug and self-righteous about.

I'm doing you a favor by being imperfect in your eyes.

Also, get over yourself.

So I figure I'll make an attempt to stay up a little bit later this evening. It's Wednesday and I only have two nights to get back in sync with the rest of the world.

It has been nice getting plenty of sleep for the last few nights though.

Today, I ate lunch at Buckhead's with some work people.

I almost never eat lunch on a weekday, but I've been craving a Buckhead's Cajun burger for several weeks now, plus I've been asked by a friend of mine to stay away from that place at night, plus the other work guys were going there.

So I went.

My food was yummy, as was the Stone Smoked Porter (190) I had with it. Even though they had it on tap, for some reason the waitress gave me a bottle. I didn't drink the whole bottle though, just 20 ounces of it.

After work, I tried to call SassyGirl, but got no answer.

I went to Rich O's and sat at the bar and had a Spezial (1150) which was yummy. There were about a zillion loud fuckers over by the island. The bartender told me they were good people though so I didn't scowl at them too much. Plus one of the girls was kinda hot.

PatronizingAsshole came in and sat beside me at one point and proceeded to lecture the bartender on how he should go to Dublin and learn how to pour a pint of Guinness. I hate that guy so much. He wasn't even drinking Guinness - he just saw fit to be a dick. There's not a damn thing wrong with the way any of the bartenders at Rich O's pour a pint.

I came home to a clean house and a mowed lawn. That was pretty nice, and well worth the money I spend so I don't have to do that shit myself. This was the first lawn mowing this season for those of you keeping score at home.

Man I'm bored.

I need to find something to do or I'll get sleepy and that'll ruin my grand plan to stay up until at least 10:00 tonight.

You know what's funny?

I miss MixedSignalGirl more than I miss LaptopGirl.

Fuck, I even miss HatGirl more than I miss LaptopGirl.

Maybe I've been abducted by aliens and replaced by a pod person.

But wouldn't I, of all people, know it if that were the case?

I don't really feel like a pod person, I'm just acting like one.

Oh yeah, HatGirl is having a yard party, but I'll be in St. Louis that weekend. Sucks to be me.

Man I'm bored. And tired.

What a boring person I've become.

Whether it's shock or denial or a combination of the two, my mind seems to have shut itself down.

This is a good thing if I want to sleep, and it's certainly allowing me to do that lately. This is also a good thing for my readers if they want to sleep, for if there is anything more likely to cause drowsiness than reading about another person's boring life and mundane thoughts - I don't know what it would be.

I feel like there must be something here inside my head that, if I could only get a good enough grip on it, I could force it to generate some passion within me. Then I could let some of that passion spill out onto this keyboard.

There must must be something in here.

Today, I went shopping for booze. This is an annual event in which I spend a lot of money, on things that I will never drink, simply because my company expects it of me. So now I've got even more wine and whisky and whiskey and vodka to place alongside all of the bottles that I've bought in previous years. My liquor cabinet overflowed last year - bottles are now starting to crowd onto my kitchen counter. My freezer is filling up with flavored vodka.

I try to give it away to friends and family, but I don't have a lot of either, and most of the people I know are beer drinkers anyway.

I could throw the fuck all of parties, but since I don't like people that much, I doubt that I'll be doing that anytime soon. Or ever.

My fridge is also filling up with beer. Like today I bought myself a six-pack each of Bell's Kalamazoo Stout and Upland Chocolate Stout. Six months ago I never drank at home, but I've picked up that habit lately I suppose. Mostly in an attempt to stir my creative juices. I gotta watch that shit though. I gotta remember where I came from. What my parents were.

After the booze shopping I stopped by Rich O's and had myself a glass of Spezial Rauchbier Lager (1130) which started being promised in January I think but only just now showed up on tap. It was yummy.

Once I got home I went to sleep and slept for nine hours.

I dreamed that I missed a certain person, and I was so happy to be feeling anything again, but then I remembered that I'm not allowed to miss that person anymore. So I dreamed that I missed someone else until the same realization put an end to that as well.

So, apparently, I'm not allowing myself to feel anything at all, not even in my dreams.

How messed up is that?