On Time Killing On A Friday Night

Before you even say anything, yes, I am aware that it's 11ish on a Friday evening, and I'm sitting on my bed with my laptop comfortably situated on my lap (how fitting), typing this. I am also aware that in doing so, I am the lamest person this side of the Atlantic. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. In my defence, I really can't be bothered to go out on a Friday night; not here, at least. I do have friends, mostly people that I work with, and I DO go out with them (tomorrow night is a testament to that, as I am going out on the town in St. Ives to celebrate the 29th birthday of a co-worker), but it's not the same....

It's not the same because I miss my mates back home, to an insanely large degree. At least back home I know my dynamic in the group; I know my place. Don't ask me to tell you what that place is, just know that I have one, and it's solid. My position as the instigator of the Friday Night Drink-Off is assured, at the very least. Tonight is a doubly depressing, because a large portion of the Summer 08 Gang is getting together to celebrate the birthday of a really special lady, my girl Meaghan. Even the especially cool CQ is making an appearance, and in the winter no less, which is just unheard of. In the summer we spent many a weekend out on my back porch, sipping alcoholic beverages, listening to my iPod crack out random tunes, while shooting the shit. I have fond memories of trying to snake one of the loungers, so that I could stretch out and enjoy my bevy in style. I will always love thinking back to Christine and Paul macking on each other to a borderline disgusting (though mostly adorable) way, almost blowing ourselves up with the propane tank on the barbie, reeking of Glade mosquito lamp smoke, having burping contests with the boys, being 'breast-buddies' with Kayla and Megs, and rolling my eyes as another passive-aggressive battle broke out between Holly and Matty....

Yes, those were the days indeed.

And it is these amazing people that are meeting once again, on this cold and windy Canadian winter evening, to have bevy's at the Mug...

...without me.

If I close my eyes, and try to imagine, I can bring myself back to only a few weeks ago...

The Boxing Day just passed is the most recent memory that I am holding on to. It's made easier by the availability of video clips, thanks to my handy digital camera (bless you, Sony). The warm glow of the back room in my parents house, sinking into the cushy chairs while sipping drinks for the 'drinking cups' my mom bought for us in the summer (since we - I - broke too many of her glass cups while drunk), breaking into group sing-a-longs, more burping contests, my iPod yet again pumping out some tunes, a rare mixture of rock, country and hip hop.

If I close my eyes hard enough, I keep thinking that maybe I can go back to those times. Go back to Boxing Day, or better yet, go back to the summer. Or maybe, just maybe, if I wish really hard, instead of going backwards, I can go forward. That would actually be ideal....

...but I know I am being stupid. I know that time will not go any faster or slower, just because I want it to. The world doesn't work that way. It never works the way we want it to, does it?

I can wish all I want to be home, but the fact is, I won't be there for another 77 days. It's so far away, and yet its not. The worst part is that the trip won't even be a permanent stay; it's just for another two week teaser. I'll take what I can get though. I miss it all so much...if it wasn't such an expensive flight, and if the flight wasn't a total drag, I'd go home every weekend. I really would. But again, I am being stupid. Again, I am wishing for something that cannot possibly come true.

I guess it just really bothers me to know that the people I love - my people - are continuing their lives like nothing's changed. They do the things they would do regardless of my being there, and they will continue to do so. They might think about me this time, and maybe for the next few times to follow, but eventually they'll forget about me. It will once again become the norm that I am NOT there, as much was it was the norm when I WAS there. I'm not being melodramatic either, that's really how it happens, and it's probably one of my biggest fears. I fear, more than anything, that moving to England for a year will forever ruin my friendships and relationships. It's pretty hard to stay in touch with people, considering the time difference. I get home from work when it's noon in Canada, and go to bed when most Canadians are in turn coming home from work. Unless I stay up to a ridiculously late time I don't get to talk to anyone. I have to make a pretty conscious effort to stay in touch with people. But ultimately, people will move on with their lives. I mean, they get to continue with their routines, see the same people, go to the same bars, and feel comfortable and happy with their lives. Me, I get to sit in my room in England feeling sorry for myself, wallowing in the past, and wishing I were in the future.

I know a lot of people complain about routine, arguing that they never do anything 'fun'. For the record, I've officially taken that leap, and I can honestly say that doing things like this, crazy brave things like moving to Europe, are overrated. Unless you're going with people it's really not that much fun. Making this move alone, though very noble and smart on a business level is not the best personal choice to make.

I really do hope that doing this won't be the biggest mistake of my (personal) life. I worry about it every day. I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want people to stop valuing me, because I'm not there to talk to. I hate missing out on memories; we all make new memories constantly, and the really shit thing is while they are all making memories together, I make them alone. I can't share these memories the way they can share those. Telling a story that the group remembers is much more interesting than listening to me talk about myself...

Most of all, I hate that it's putting my life on hold, while everyone else is still moving forward. I stay at the same place, and they keep forging ahead. What if I come home, and they're in a totally different place? It worries me.

Anyways. I know I am being all emotional and weepy...I guess sitting alone in your room on Friday night with your laptop isn't the most productive environment for positive thoughts to grow. It almost reads as if I am utterly miserable. Rest assured (Mom especially) that I am not miserable. I have no regrets. Rather, I only have doubts. Doubts and worries, but no regrets.

I know why I did this, and it was for all the right reasons, professionally. I also know that the payoff should be worth it. I should be a lot more employable. Though with the present economy, and the fact that teaching is in dire straights in Ontario right now, I'm not sure how that's going to play out.

I just hope to god that professional gain isn't being won at the expense of my personal life. I know how tough I am, and how committed I am, but its really hard to judge other people without taking a gigantic leap of faith.

Yet again I've proven I'm not afraid to leap...

...hopefully everyone else is leaping too.