So apparently most everyone from the SFS is still angry with me about Gaming Weekend. Some have downshifted to apathy. I think some are planning an intervention. Maybe not.
Sunday morning, I couldn't stop shaking. While at lunch with Jon, I couldn't hold my food still. I was moving the entire table. Jon noted, "You know what you need: a stiff drink." Later, I had one; the shakes stopped. Withdrawal's a bitch. Monday morning, I promised myself I wouldn't drink until Friday night at the earliest. By five that very afternoon, that vow had gone out the window.
Tuesday night, Ellis Paul came back to WPI for the thirteenth year in a row. And he was awesome. I bought his book, Notes From The Road, and had him sign it. Solid.
At Coffeehouse, I was talking with some LnL people. My journal came up on separate occasions. TJ said I was "the most upbeat depressed person". Schenck, commenting on his lack of anything to say in his online log, remarked that I had no qualms about sharing the most personal encounters about other people. He also noted that even when said people read these entries about them, I don't feel embarrassed, nor do I stop writing about them. He said I should hold on to that lack of compunction. Oh, I plan to.
Between the Frisbee on Tuesday nights and the occasional running with Chuck, I think I'm getting into shape. I even imagined I felt some growth in my bicep. It's kind of scary.
There's a 200ml flask of Parrot Bay sitting in front of me on my desk. I really, really want to take a hit. But I've got to finish my Advanced Calc. work, and Pat told me not three hours ago not to drink and derive. Horrible pun. However, he didn't say anything about drinking and integrating... No. Not yet. It'll be my reward when I'm done. Yeah. That's the ticket.