Give Me Envy. Give Me Malice. Baby, Give Me a Break.

In light of events that transpired over the past weekend, I think that I can safely attest to the old adage, 'Familiarity breeds contempt.' No matter how cohesive a group may seem, if you spend enough time together, especially under less than ideal circumstances, gale-force winds will start to blow and you'll be in the middle of a hurricane shitstorm before you even know what's happened.



What I've come to realize is that drama is simply tedious and unnecessary. I used to feed off of it and instigate arguments, sheerly out of a desire to make something 'interesting' occur, but I suppose 'old' age has tempered this naive and immature folly. The less drama there is in my life, the better. Now, if I could just find a significant other who isn't more estrogenic than I am, all would be right in my world.

As for drinking, my desire to get 'shit-helmeted' (a creation of my dear friend, Manny) has also dissipated with each additional calendar page I've gotten to flip this past year. Drinking's lost most of it's appeal for 2 reasons: 1.) I'm not going to find the love of my life sitting on a bar stool in New Brunswick and 2.) I'm tired of being told what I did instead of remembering first hand the previous evening.

So, call me old/lame/boring... whatever. I just wanna sit home on a Friday night with a special someone, watch scary movies, cuddle, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

... Wow, my world perspective has gone through a pretty radical journey over the past few months.

Any other early 20-somethings feeling tired of the party scene too? Maybe I've just lost my marbles... Oh well.

Cheers.