What weekends mean...

Another weekend down; actually the last weekend of November, which makes me think about how fast this year has passed.  Not a very pleasant thought.  I am in my own celibate hole, the work I am doing at the college is a form of performance art that is breaking my week up into different points of dullness (whatever that means), and I am still trying to prove things to myself.

 

Yes, I am still in my self-denial kick (am I setting a record yet?), so I decided to go out on Saturday night and do something I have not done in a long time: I had a drink.  Not monumental to most of the human race, but I often feel like the only reason to drink is to pretend that I like the people around me.  One mojito at one noisy bar before heading home was nothing special, but I was on my own. Not a smart move.  People can smell loneliness, I think.  But it was an important lesson in a series of lessons about me and the weekend.  Just do not need liquid courage to handle the problems in my life.

What else?  A good friend has, once again, figured me out.  I have an emotional barrier/shield/wall around me that keeps me from connecting with others (no wonder the whole celibacy deal is not such a big deal).  I have built it as a means of dealing with life and it has helped.  I may as well admit that there are things in my life that I could not have done if I was connected emotionally with others.  But, like anything that you indulge in far too often, it ruins you.  I sit in cafes alone with my notes and papers and music and wonder why I am repeating things in my life.  My own fault.  And that is enough. 

That good friend?  A good lady...  She has told me what is needed to connect with her camp if you are a guy; what to say, how to act.  My plan now is to add this to the self-improvements in my life (along with the gym, the language studies and guitar).  More challenges for me...

And what do weekends mean to me?  A time to reflect, think and maybe hope more often than I ever have before.