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When I was younger and wandering in adolescence without direction, I used to dislike Sundays. It was nothing so complex as aversion to religious undertones of the day or the dread of impending school the next morning. It was indescribable. It was a feeling I got that the fluidity of time changed on Sunday... the viscosity of my day was less like lukewarm water and more like jack frost molasses. It wasn't that the day took longer to begin or end... or that the part between those goal posts was any longer as a whole. It was that each evolution and interaction of the day was like a John Woo action sequence. I thought I was chemically unbalanced. My mind was at whirring at 78 rpm and the world around me was spinning 45's. The most disturbing part of it all was that I only got this feeling on Sundays. I can't remember at what point in my life this changed any more than I can remember what point in my life I started noticing if men and women were wearing wedding bands. I guess that is just happens one day like when you start liking vegetables that you didn't like as a child. Who can pinpoint the intricacies of our universe with timeline dates and figures? Today was as close to that old school feeling from my youth as I have been since I can remember. Post Camron departure, the house was quiet and the soft light from an overcast sky lit my den in a most unusual way. It was like that moment of passage during the gloaming when you know everything is in transition, but you can't actually see anything changing. I curled up on the couch with my two cats and book (which I am thoroughly enjoying). That feeling was there, but just out of reach... like I could sense it's presence, but it didn't want to join me on the couch, so it taunted me from the floor. It opened up a lot of childhood memories for me... from that time... kinda like when you are out somewhere and you hear a song that sparks a time in your life when had heard it before and suddenly all those emotions come flooding back... or when you smell a familiar scent and it reminds you of someone or something that you had not thought about in years. That Sunday feeling took me back to my adolescence and I lingered in those memories all afternoon as I slowly devoured the text one page at a time. That weird thing with clock happened all day again too. I go through these stages where for months at a time, every time I casually glance at a digital clock, all the numbers will be the same (ala 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, etc.)... odd. If nothing else has come out of this four day weekend (other than seeing my sister again... which was great), I have spent a lot of time soul searching. I have poured over where I am in life and where I'm going a thousand times. Truth be told, I am amazingly more successful than I would have ever hoped to be at this age given the hardships of the last decade... at least from a stability and career standpoint. When it comes to intangibles like love and character, I believe myself to be a personal success who has circumstantially had failure forced upon him. Maybe I just tell myself that so I don't feel bad about being single. There's nothing wrong with that. I have been successful at procrastinating all weekend... dodging the to-do list I prepared for myself on Wednesday afternoon. I find myself daydreaming and losing myself in tiny distractions. Maybe I'm not ready. I feel myself starting to ramble along the downward spiral to incoherent babble. It could mean many things... it may mean I'm confused about something and am talking my way to a reasonable clarity... it may mean I'm trying to find new and creative ways to procrastinate that very same to-do list into a to-didn't list... it may mean I need my head examined... etc. etc. etc. <-- three times. At any rate, today was a solemn and relaxing day... but I find myself feeling a little empty right now. I feel like I drank from my cup and there's nothing there to refill it. I need a refill dammit.