On This Day, Which Shall Not be Named
It's a sort of cross between Halloween (as was) and Armistice Day in the feelings it stirs. On the one hand, terror and loathing; on the other, regret and sorrow. Terror of the darkness, alone and ever-so vulnerable; loathing of the monstrous grinning pairs, partying and happy. Regret for lost life, wasted and tragic; sorrow that the wastage goes
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It was a fairly ordinary day for me, apart from I banned myself from minesweeper at the office (temping; don't get excited!). On my own laptop I only just managed to expunge "14/02/XX" from the fastest times late last year - there were several, and they were preeeeetttty quick. Because you know, while it doesn't matter, it sort of does matter.
Seriously, I don't know what to make of 14-2. I often really enjoy seeing couples observing the day, even when it does make me feel a bit lacking. This year though I've been on the phone a lot with my sister, who broke up a long-term relationship in the past week. So that perspective rather attenuated any bitterness (Of course, she's still infinitely more of a proper adult than me, despite being 3 years younger. Whatevs.).
I guess I just return to thinking: "there's nothing so wrong with me. Do the right thing, and add little more time, effort, luck... we'll all get there in the end." I wish I could add something a bit more original, but there's truth there as well as platitude.
(Goshdarnit, Chris. You write absolutely beautifully, as usual.)
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"While it doesn't matter, it sort of does matter."
That was exactly what I was getting at, that frustrating neverwhere between coldly rational objectivity that points out that it doesn't matter and wild, emotional subjectivity that still knows that it does, regardless.
I am moving house soon - would you be interested in attending a house-warming?
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