Time For Beer

Time For Beer

Main Entry: 1bit·ter·sweet
Pronunciation: 'bi-t&r-"swEt
Function: noun
1 : something that is bittersweet; especially : pleasure alloyed with pain
- Merriam-Webster Online

Stardate 061906, Loveland, Ohio Quadrant. Must...find...hot...alien chick...to plook...Spooooooooooooooock!!!!!! !

Turned in the keys at 5PM. About three hours behind "schedule", not that I'm capable of ever planning this kind of thing ahead.

The car looks like one big opaque fuckin' thing. You can't see out of most of the windows. I had more shit than I thought. And this is after throwing a ton of shit away. Nothing important, mind you, but final clean-up was quite interesting.

The last two things I took before locking the door was a small green ball and a picture. A picture I carried across the country and back last year. It's not the best shot of Katie - white background making it kinda washed-out - but it's stayed with me. I've kept it by the bed for the past year.

I did better at organizing this time than when I moved last year. Not that this is saying much.

I filled up the gas tank at the VP behind the apartment. Put air in the back passenger side tire, which needs looked at soon.

I pulled out onto Thompson Rd., heading towards I-74. I took one final look back at my home for the past year. I cranked up some Faith No More. A mile later, I was crying so hard I nearly had to pull over.

I've learned to accept failure. It's becoming my best friend. It teaches me the shit I'm too stupid to figure out on my own. And when I spend enough time working through it, it doesn't feel like failure anymore. In fact, it feels pretty fucking good, though there's always that other side of it, the side that doesn't taste so good, but seems essential for nutrition as well. I've finally learned the definition of "bittersweet."

I haven't got the first fucking clue what will happen tomorrow, or next week, or next month. I'm out on a goddamn limb, and Shirley McClaine can kiss my hairy ass.

The sun is out.

Love,
Dougie