Thursday, June 18, 2009

The Crack in the Ice

A few nights ago, the Pittsburgh Penguins captured the Cup and claimed for the city's inhabitants the right to annihilate their livers and any inanimate objects within staggering distance. We congregated in the Crew House, cooked out and kegged quite sufficiently, and all that transpired before the drop of the puck, accompanied by the soothing sounds of inadequate vocals and the clicking of colored keys on plastic guitars. We laughed through the evening, and following the second period and the several shots of the rechristened "Goalshlager" I had consumed, I seemed perfectly inebriated, much to the joy of my fellow intoxicated. So I continued to descend into the depths of drunkenness. The game ended, and the subsequent celebratory rampage through the streets of Oakland is all rather hazy to me, though I do remember refusing to return to the calm of the Crew House. I also remember offering something that didn't belong to me, assuming rather foolishly that what is shared is shared fully. The permeating anger and uncertainty bombarded my brain, breaking down the barrier between my conscious mind and its deepest fears. Everything came out that night. I cannot say that I was not myself that night, for I was. All of those things that worry me in little ways throughout each day descended upon me at once that evening, and I was in no state to cope with the situation. Luckily, I have friends that know me well enough that they know exactly what to do when such spontaneously shitty scenarios present themselves.
I cannot promise that such a situation will never occur again. I can't even promise that I will try to fix things because that would require accurate knowledge of the issue to be remedied. I have this feeling that there is no such issue--that these are merely the stresses of the life I have chosen to lead. In choosing such a life, I must come to expect a maelstrom every now and then, and it means a lot to who I am that I have been able to weather the storms I have encountered to this point. I've learned to swim with the best of them, and I don't need saving. I'm not asking anyone to pull me out of the water as I flail about, breaths away from drowning: All I ask is that you help me back into the boat when I'm done.

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