. . .
OK, so those of you looking for pissed-off rant can move right the fuck along because for once (or twice, if you count that one time in Greece with the Ouzo and what I thought was sugar) I am actually feeling good. Pretty damn good, in fact. It turns out that little light in the human soul, the glimmer that keeps us all for murdering the person who sniffs repeatedly and loudly in the cinema with no ill-will, the feeling that makes us put a copper in the money box at the till, the flame of human decency, is still with us.
. . .
Alas, I have no picture for you this time. Here, have an owl or something.
What? Why the fuck not?
. . .
Right, so I'll back the hell up here a bit.
I finished my semester in college two days ago. Top of the god damn world, amiright? You've got to love continuous assessment at a time like this (and despise it for all others). So then I realise I can finally go to a 21st birthday over on the other side of the country.
. . .
I should probably get to the point before this turns into a pointless narrative.
I spent most of the first day at my cousin's rented house, where she made me a full meal and she knew that I was only passing through on my way to the party.
The people at the party were, in a word, amazing people to surround yourself with.
The takeaway after the nightclub had fry-up-breakfast pizza.
I had to sleep the night at the friend's friends house, and they made me feel like family.
The bus I had to get to get back home required exact change. I wasn't to know. I only had a twenty. Quick as a flash, a stranger my age handed my fare to the driver just saying "Don't worry, man, I've been in that situation myself more than once." I almost wished I could have handed in my "sense-of-self-worth-card" there and then.
Several pensioners got on the bus, and were spoiled for choice by the offers of seats, again, from students. (I was standing also, so I hadn't a seat to give before you start giving me accusatory interweb-glares)
On the bus, I met two of the friendly people with whom I had been drinking the night previous. One was going in a similar direction to me, and as such was happy to give directions to a meeting place (see below).
As luck would have it, a friend was also making the trip back across the country, so I only had to take that short bus ride to a meeting point, before getting in a comfy car to be driven back to my bed.
. . .
To a hungover, unshaven, jobless, naturally acidic bastard like myself, the last 24 hours have been, to put it honestly, making me wonder why the fuck I try so hard to promote the viewpoint that everything has gone to shit.
Maybe it's the recession-era psyche starting to forcibly drag us back to when we saw others as human rather than opposing meatsacks whose sole purpose is to keep us from our Very Very Important Appointment with the X factor.
Maybe it's merely the combination of several factors such as a night out, good banter, no exams, coupled with an extraordinary set of coincidences which seem almost predesigned to make me look like a raging dickwad in a world of upper-class gentlemen.
Or maybe it was the fact that I made absolutely no concrete plans about this little excursion, found myself woefully underprepared, before finding myself handed literally constantly from new friend to new friend without any of them so much as complaining a mite, all of them being amazingly helpful.
Maybe I just can't see what I already have anymore, and I need to actually appreciate the place I'm in in life right now. This moment. Now.
Maybe this is Karma offset from when my PS3 was stolen. In that case, What The Fuck, Karma?!?
Maybe I'm tired. Reeeeeeeeeeally tired.
. . .
That's it. I'm knackered. Go tell a friend they're awesome or something.