Went out to the Happy Gnome yesterday: our waiter is merely the newest entry in a long list of strangers who seem to hate me. Why else would you bring me a bottle of a beer that you have on tap? I mean, I'm at a bar.
Maybe it was code for "you are Mr. Leinie's Cheapo Man." It did get me to overtip; the strangers who hate me tend to be pretty nefarious that way.
Otherwise, not the most exciting weekend. I finished Super Paper Mario, which has some interesting depth for your more h.c. gamer — three fighting/endurance "100 trials" stages, collectible items, characters whose names are videogame history puns — but isn't too challenging if you're just trying to beat it.
(Notable: it lets you keep playing after the main story is over, and there's plenty to do. I would probably have to play for 20 more hours to conquer it, but as far as the obsessive part of my brain is concerned, completing the main story means that I'm freeeeeeeeeeee!)
I also read about 300 pages of sci-fi, so, whoo. It's not like I was trying to be boring, but logistical, social, and weather issues foiled me pretty hard.
I spent most of this weekend either doing serious thinking or attempting to avoid it. Much like Ben, my future right now seems to depend on so many contingencies that I've considered drawing a chart. Jess made a strong case for not worrying about the future just yet, but I have the regrettable habit of living my life with an eye to a six-month timeframe that starts six months out.
I should probably start journaling again. It's not like I'm brimming over with feelings, but I (we) spend so much time shutting out contemplation that I think I need to put aside time for it. It's probably the only way to keep my life at a comfortable depth. Plus the memory reconsolidation benefit from writing down your day right before bed is nothing to scoff at.