unsent

Every year, around this time, I get reflective. The glitz and tinsel of Christmas fade, leaving this void of time that allows for too much wine to be drunk on too many pensive evenings alone. The last few years, I have dealt with this by filling the 26-31 with work and shopping. This year, confined to home, I cannot escape my flights into depressingly sober fantasies.

I was going to have a year in reflection post. I may still. Much has happened this year - vacations, festivals, family and friends. But in thinking about these things, I realise that there are many less friends than there once were - and I'm not unhappy about that. Used to be a time when I couldn't plan a party without inviting 65 people (not even an exaggeration); nowadays, my perfect guest list consists of 12 people (4 FISees, 3 gamer-boys, 2 Queen's alums, an MLSer, my Customs twin Elle and my sister Nish). Honourable mention to my brother, but he can't be a guest at my party - he lives here. I'm feeling especially good about that.

I have great amounts of affection for these people - affections that hardly ever manifests into anything good or honourable. I love them, yes. I do. I cannot imagine my life without them in it ...wait. Not true, I can. And it's empty: barren and cold. These people save me from boredom, intellectual stagnation, and myself over and over again. But I can't seem to express to them how I feel. I just hope they know.

I am better at writing about post-colonial dissertations on imagery in Paradise Lost.