You can't dig someone else of a bad situation. I mean, can you? When people are down in the dumps, you can try to help them out and drag them out but usually they'll come up whenever they're ready to come out. I subscribe heavily to the idea that a person knows how to self medicate. If they need some drugs and rock and roll, they'll go find it. If they need friends or television, they'll find it. But what happens when you see that the path they're headed toward is a terrible one?

People love to use the phrase, "we're all adults now." I disagree. We're totally not adults now. We're basically still children. In fact, the more I learn about adults (anyone five years older than me, I still have a high schooler's mentality of what constitutes "older") the more I'm skeptical that anyone evolves past the child stage.

If you're a shitty seventeen year old, and then a slightly better but still shitty twenty four year old, there's a good chance you'll just be an almost not as shitty forty year old.

What changes, I think, is the amount of people who can or want to feel responsible for you as you get older. If you're a real drag to be around when you're old, you'll just find yourself in pothole after pothole, with less people to lean on as the years pass.

This is a working theory.

I'm over at Alabama Street, where we used to hang out all the time two years ago. In the time since, Alabama Street has taken on a totally different significance. A block down from this house is the girl I'm dating, who was only a few hundred yards away all this time, and I've been over the plenty the past few weeks. She's baking cupcakes now and maybe I'll sneak over to snag one later. This house, with its little front yard, where we all used to smoke and conversate, was the cosmic focal point of new friendships, reconnected friendships, and finally, failed friendships. So things are plenty different now.

Tonight, Daisy is working the ukulele, dropping a medley of pop and Hawaiian hits. She's currently working a Plain White T's song, at my request. Raqstar is holed up in the "champagne room," which is partitioned off with a baby gate, to prevent the dogs and cats to run in, and to keep the studious atmosphere in. Shawn is making a video for one of his classes and through the closed door we can hear each manic and high energy take. None of these exact things have happened before but it all feels overly familiar, in a good way.

There are two groups of young adults: people who haven't stopped working since their twenties versus people who've had at least a year off. Speaking as a candidate for presidency of the latter group, I wonder at what point the former group throws up their hands and says, "I need a break!" I hope the answer isn't simply "retirement." For people who are near my age, that's almost a decade of straight work. That sounds crazy to me.

How can you go ten years without having not taken more than two weeks off (and probably not consecutively)? I guess people can break up the work monotony with school or some such thing, but there are some people I know who've never stopped. If people are worried about escaping the rat race, isn't this exactly what they've been engaged in? Where's the exit lane?

This is like having stellar attendance in school. What's the point? You get recognized with a ribbon or a special announcement at graduation but then you start to think, "Wait, what is this award for?"

If you're going to go down, why not go down slacking?

I need a little bit of snark in my life. Okay, a lot of it. Earnestness, sincerity, cringing at un-PC comments, those things don't do it for me. I like people who can step right in and start launching sarcastic salvos. And do it quickly. I like my drinks sweet but my conversations bitter. Perhaps if I switched to unsugared coffee this perspective could change. Is that possible? Or even desired?

Today at a cafe I saw two guys pull out a stack of familiar looking books. I cruised by their table on the way to bathroom and my suspicions were confirmed. They were flipping through D&D guides. Through the rest of our time I kept glancing over in order to discern if they were a random bunch of friends or perhaps meeting as newbies and strangers. I hoped for the latter so I could stroll up and introduce myself. Alas, I couldn't figure it out so as we were about to leave, I just went up to them and said, "Hi, I couldn't help noticing your books and was wondering if you accepted new players..." This was after half an hour of hyping myself up mind you. I've been less nervous approaching girls before.

The trio returned my greeting half-heartedly as I tried to sneak in some banter indicating my experience and enthusiasm, eventually forcing my email on them. I sure hope they contact me -- maybe we can Wave together. D&D, you complete me.

Yesterday I gave someone I met just hours ago a deep man hug. The occasion? We shared the same favorite science fiction author. I believe he whispered "I love him!" into my ear as we both delighted in meeting a fellow (male) reader. I think I've only ever hugged four guys like that in my life. Sometimes you drum up temporary enthusiasm with a fellow human ("high five!") because of the moment, or alcohol, but sometimes you just feel like you've known the other person for awhile and am yet still excited to find out more. So yeah, it was that kind of night.

I'm trying to challenge myself to blog in here every day. At least 100 words, but no more than 250 (and am using a Firefox extension to keep track). I've fallen out of the habit of daily blogging and want to get back into it. What I'd like to do is capture mini-moments, to get my writing down to short and pithy paragraphs. I'm terrible at that because I'm a rambler and can't control my words. Unlike her, whom I'd love to learn from and emulate.

And I read about someone who just titles their post whatever the song playing in the background is, I think I'll do that too. This feels like a breakthrough, for no good reason at all.