(no subject)
The first few days of freedom have been wonderful and busy in all the good ways. There's been much Christmas shopping with Cindy, and the inevitable stupid-silly-joys that come with that. Spent a few hours at Ainlay yesterday, managing to run into every person I could have thought to seek out, was able to talk to Kristen again, and then went for rather delightful hot chocolate with the ever-amazing Jaimi where Isaiah 57:3-4, the injustice of 5 weeks, and additions to my quote wall were discussed, irreverantly and yet affectionately. Well, more or less.
Caught a ride to the EPIC party with the Dregers, where I spent the first 3 hours reaquainting myself with old friends, debriefing with Jeana and organizing the ressurrection of Hope Mission with Kristen Wall, and the rest of the night being pulled into the addictive vortex that is Rook. I won the last 10 rounds, despite increasing idiocy with every minute past 1 am, reveled in my overcompetative nature, discovered that Kristopher gets incredibly sarcastic when he is tired, and spent far too much time altogether deviating between subtextually conversing with Andrew and being a terrible girlfriend and choosing moves for the sole purpose of breaking his brain.
Despite a rather miscalculated return home around 2 or so, and the subsequent parental negotiations, 'twas a good night, all in all. And as we drove home speaking of axe murderers and bad music, camp and foreign Christmas carols, it occured to me that perhaps I'd entirely misidentified all which was lacking, and perhaps it was closer than I'd thought.
Caught a ride to the EPIC party with the Dregers, where I spent the first 3 hours reaquainting myself with old friends, debriefing with Jeana and organizing the ressurrection of Hope Mission with Kristen Wall, and the rest of the night being pulled into the addictive vortex that is Rook. I won the last 10 rounds, despite increasing idiocy with every minute past 1 am, reveled in my overcompetative nature, discovered that Kristopher gets incredibly sarcastic when he is tired, and spent far too much time altogether deviating between subtextually conversing with Andrew and being a terrible girlfriend and choosing moves for the sole purpose of breaking his brain.
Despite a rather miscalculated return home around 2 or so, and the subsequent parental negotiations, 'twas a good night, all in all. And as we drove home speaking of axe murderers and bad music, camp and foreign Christmas carols, it occured to me that perhaps I'd entirely misidentified all which was lacking, and perhaps it was closer than I'd thought.