The Low End of High

Hey.

It's me, I'm sorry it's so late.

But I couldn't sleep.

This weekend was a good weekend. I guess when I say weekend, I mean the last four days. I had Thursday and Friday off for the Holiday. Thursday was reserved for family of course, to celebrate our blessings together and the one year anniversary of my father's heart-surgery. We played poker (I won), and Mad Gab (I won both times, albeit with different partners).

Friday was another open mic night at Coffee Fusion. It was okay, kind of embarrassing (not for me, for others, being watched by me, but they were just young kids, so you kind of have to cut them a break). My songs were as follows:

Beggars -Thrice
Red Sky - Thrice
Empty - Ray LaMontagne
Whiskey Lullaby - Don't even know the artist. But it was a duet between myself and my friend Madison Trainer.
Flightless Bird, American Mouth - Iron and Wine

Pictures and videos will be put up soon, and when they are, I will link to them.

After the mic night, several of us went to a cabin on Gilford Lake. Games and laughing and music and drinking ensued, but I had to leave early as I had plans the following morning.

Said plans were a trip to see New Moon (Good, much better than Twilight). We then ate at the Cadillac Ranch where I ordered Ranch Mac and Cheese (so good I almost punched the waitress in the face when she tried to take it away before I was finished...okay, not really). Then it was back out to the cabin for me, to spend Saturday evening through Sunday morning.

Walks were taken, lakes were jumped in at below freezing tempatures (by yours truly and one other brave soul), runs were taken in haste back to the cabin to put on clothes and thaw myself in front of the fireplace. Philosophical conversations were had on the dock at 2 a.m., and then since all the beds were taken, I stretched out in front of the smoldering remains of the fire and fell asleep, which was a little glimpse of heaven as far as I'm concerned.

You know, I have almost come to be reluctant about the highs in life, because they are inevitably followed by lows. Like right now. I can't sleep. The weekend is over. I'm alone. And I have to get up in roughly five hours to go back to work. And you know what I'm going to do when I'm done with work? Go home. Alone. And do it all over again until Saturday.

The book continues to grow and take on a life of its own, and the journey, both of the characters and the process of writing it, is nearing its final leg. I have never felt more passionately about anything as I do about this story.

I suppose I'll leave you with this:

Pessimism is what Optimists call Realism.