The Weekend and March 9th
Weekends are supposed to be your time off from work and when you get to bask in the things you love. What those things are can be pretty open ended in my mind. I realize a lot of people work on the weekends but I am choosing to ignore that at the moment.
Weekends used to be a time from moving from bar to bar to after party to after party to the next day sometimes with sleep in there. At some point in time I grew up a bit and sleep almost always made it into the mix but I was still a weekend warrior. Weekends were almost always associated with partying.
When I ended up here alone last year I was at a bit of a loss. What do you mean my co-workers don’t drink until the morning, listen to music and be ridiculous? Well I would still have my moments alone, drinking, writing, and listening to music. But there were also long periods of sobriety and introspective thought.
Now in my second year I find myself having those moments alone and drinking even less. I still don’t think there is anything wrong with having a couple pops on a Friday or Saturday night to unwind a bit but I am doing it less and less here. 14 days without a drop and that’s fine. Part of it is because I don’t have a liquor store in my community and part of it is a lack of interest. I know when March break hits I will be on the piss in a major way and I’m fine with that too. To be honest I can’t wait for some partying and ridiculousness.
Six years ago today one of my best friends was murdered. When I got up today I knew I was going to feel weird and I think in the past I would have ended up with a drink for breakfast. Now I find myself looking outside at the sun starting to appear and I realize I only have one thing to do and that is go for a long run in the ultra fucking cold. I don’t have many answers but I do know I think this is a better way of coping when my mind starts to work too hard.
I thought of this friend as invincible. He was my comic hero in a modern adaptation tough way. He ensured bad things never happened to me. I always felt safe during our adventures no matter how sketchy or strange they were. Instead of being sad though, I saw the sun come up and a crazy red sun dog shot through it and I knew going outside and being in the cold would make me feel better.
Running against 20 Kilometer per hour winds in minus 30 makes you feel more than alive. So that’s me spilling some thoughts on the electronic page this Saturday.I am happy I made it George Street Festival and poured out a Keith’s for you last year Mikey. Rest easy Mike.