Useless Blogging

Tonight was my high school’s annual Alumni Bull & Oyster Roast. A bunch of men in a large gymnasium, drinking beer and eating food, and most importantly, shooting the breeze. Network value in that room is incredible.

Graduation was 12 years ago and change at this point. Next year, I will have been out of standard non-collegiate education for longer that I was in it. Five years until that holds true for college as well, and my time removed from my school days eclipses the time spent in them, if only in quantity.

Like a memory perpetrator, still I return to the scene of the mind. At Loyola, it’s hard to get back there, as when I go, it’s generally to the new gym/fieldhouse that wasn’t in existence during my time there. It’s an odd disconnection, amidst all the reconnection from one year to the next. It even makes walking on the grass — which hasn’t changed — a new event, as the scenery makes its mark in the corners of my eyes.

I’ve written before about how the times they are a-changin’, and how I wonder what will bind the youth. An election showed me something, I guess. I still wonder though, unconvinced.

I don’t know if there’s a point to this. As you can tell from the timestamp, I probably lost the point some hours ago.

Sara went to a birthday party last year. It was a large-ish event, in a fire hall. The kids got to ride the fire truck around, balloons abounded, and the hall was decked out in fire-themed stuff; an impressive soiree for a five-year-old. The boy’s mother explained that in her family, any time you made it a full hand, they’d go all out.

Today marks my sixth full hand.

I’m in the midst of a week off of work simply because I can, and I’ve got the vacation to burn. Today I went in to the office (strictly for cake), and took my mom around to see the place and meet my co-workers. She too took the day off, marking a personal labor day. We ate lunch in Fells Point.

Julie asked me later where I wanted to go out for dinner. Had I known that was in the works, I might not have eaten as much with my mom. We ended up staying in.

Birthdays take a decreased significance once you have kids (they are not unique in this respect, birthdays). Thirty years is a feat, no doubt, but there’s little fanfare to mark the occasion anymore. I don’t THINK that’s me whining about it, but reading over it, it kind of sounds like it. I maintain that today was a good day, really, despite whatever else I may say.

Will you remember where you were tonight? A generic night at home for me, but I’ll remember the tears, and I’ll remember turning to Julie and telling her that it’s a new world.

Two sets of friends: relocated.

No more moving on consecutive weekends anymore, OK kids? My arms and chest are talking at me funny.