It's funny, you know.
I have more letters behind my name than ever before. I have a job, I have a car, I have an ultra-swank apartment to myself complete with a faux-leopard-fur-covered, heart-shaped, king-sized vibrating bed. I also have a dartboard.*
I've spent a good chunk of my life carefully observing (and in some cases participating in) the world. I thought I had some of it figured out — some of it that pertains to me, anyway.
But, ever since coming back to Toronto from Kingston, things just seem to be... I don't know... just out of my grasp. Plans fall through, signs are interpreted incorrectly, connections are missed. All I have are square pegs, and every hole in sight is round. Analogies become increasingly difficult to construct.
Things aren't supposed to be this way. I have a good head screwed on my shoulders, I have everything going for me, and yet... this. It's probably just a temporary malaise — they usually are — but that doesn't make it any less confusing and unsettling.
* I have a dartboard, but I've yet to put it up. I picked up a cabinet for the thing at Canadian Tire and will mount it within the next few days, if my board fits the thing. If not, meh, it was only ten bucks anyway.