...getting rained on in Tokyo.
...old enough to drink alcohol but not old enough to know when to stop.
...blogging since 02/22/03.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Remember the bacon It finally hit me: only five more weeks and my Berlin gig is over. Still plenty of unfinished business, a move to organize, etc. Right now the unknown seems daunting rather an adventure filled with endless possibilities. With so many open issues, I'm getting more and more anxious.
Tomorrow I will pass the biggest hurdle: the flathunt. Thi is the worst part of moving. Picking a place when you don't know the city is always a gamble. The gamble is twice as high when looking at flatshares. Do I want to move into a closet-sized studio or share something more spacious with a roomie? What if the flatmate is disgusted by my fast food eating habits? What if she doesn't play Singstar? What if I end up in little Ziploc bags in her freezer?
I really need to stop overthinking and just remind myself that I do like bacon.
Attending a ball for my high school's 30th anniversary I'm back from Memory Lane, a place that I had last seen seven years ago when I got my high school diploma. It was all nostalgia tinged with alienation: the campus has been changed to accommodate new buildings, the bars we used to hang out have closed and people are wrinklier (some of the younger ones have just become uglier without the crow's-feet).
Entertaining bits of the weekend:
I talked to the odd mix of people that were present: teachers, classmates I rarely talked to back then, and littlums that used to be insignificant but have accomplished interesting things such as going to Japan and mastering language or being married for 5 years.
RP confirmed that she's engaged to the lovely Frenchman she's been seeing for the last couple of years. Unfortunately, she gesticulated wildly during the whole weekend, making it impossible for me to determine how much he loves her (i.e. the size of the rock).
Jay closed his last chapter in his Ross and Rachel relationship with his high school sweetheart and has broken off all communication with her. Meanwhile, the nihilists among us (and Friends fans) believe in the concept of Perpetual Recurrence.
I discovered that the particular dress I was wearing that evening didn't mix well with being spun around on the dance floor. Some things never change (see eternal recurrence).
The centrifugal forces applied to my chest weren't the worst thing that happened to me that night. The worst thing was witnessing my high school nemesis wiggle her godawful satin catsuit-clad booty to the most terrible song in German music history and me not being able to film it.