Profile - Archive- RSS
Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
2002-02-21 @ 8:59 p.m.
There are still the same dogs walking through the morning mist around Mosquito Creek. The Capilano still rumble crashes through the steep dark canyon, tossing up licks of spray. Sage green lichens still drip with humidity in the trails around the fish hatchery. And the little pond behind the Village still harbors the quiet fleet of ducks that, as children, we used to feed.
And snobby West Van girls still work at Hangers.
Two of the stores in the mall that I passed had girls from my grad class working in them. I felt superior for once. The Nerd just had an interview with a prominent biotech company, and Ms. Model is selling jeans in Mariposa. hehehe
But anyhow, two nights at home have healed my short-lived depression. A nice cup of tea with Chris, a movie with some friends, and a couple hours of pool with another subset of friends. The same arguments continue at home: my dad nagging my sister to eat dinner with us and to turn down her music. I asked them if they still have the same argument every night, and they responded "Yes!". I then asked if they had made any progress in the last three years. Apparently not, as she turned up her stereo even louder. They really cannot see how this rut is bringing down the whole atomsphere in the house. Depite free rent, I don't think I could live in that conflict-saturated place again.