Another weekend, another Queen's reunion

I'm now 24 hours into a hangover after going to the John Orr Alumni ball with more total people than I've seen in Toronto since I've moved here (for the record, the posse consisted of Steve, Sarah, Erin Way, James, Ginny, Katie, Kevin D, Julie and her BF Dave, Kristina and Goeff D) It was almost like a high-school reunion - lots of talking to people that you sort of recognized but didn't really have the motivation to keep in contact with, a few genuinely surprising and welcome appearances from people who played an important part in your university life, a lot of crazy Queen's Bands dancing and playing, big smiles, sore feet, lots of booze. It was a classy affair - the first black tie event I've ever attended - and for the first time in my life, I felt as though I had truely achieved adult status. When we all piled into Julie F's apartment, drinking wine, eating little pieces of crusty bread and talking about our jobs and our apartments, I felt as though some part of my life had, without my knowledge, given way to something more polished and refined. Then again, it could all have been an illusion, albeit a welcome one. I felt fantastic, Steve looked like a million bucks, and I was treated like a Queen by the alumni association. I guess there's something to be said for the degree that I have rolled up in my closet somewhere. And something more important to be said for friendships that genuinely transcend the barrier between university and the "real life"; I know now that I have people who I can get together with in 10 years, and still love as dearly as I did last night. I don't feel quite so alone right now.

I'm struggling to find meaning (which I'm sure is a pretty popular blog topic for twenty somethings). I was talking last night to a bunch of people who, regardless of what field they were working in, were overworked, underpaid, and with the exception of my ex-housemate who I ran into, who is currently making almost 100 grand a year- pretty unhappy. Like, straight across the board. And even though it made me feel better ('cause, y'know, misery loves company), I struggled with the idea that life can't be fantastic when you're starting out. That there can't be SOMETHING out there that will make us genuinely excited to wake up in the morning. And maybe, y'know, it can't be an external force. Maybe at this point it has to come from inside of us. I truely believe that young people are idealistic and wonderous and have bright, shiny dreams, because if we didn't, we wouldn't survive this part of our life. Like, the only thing that I can think about right now is how much better things are going to continue to get for me. I am scared of the day where I will wake up and say, "this is it. This is the best that it's ever going to be for me". Humans are creatures of self-renewal, and when we can throw out a husband as easily as we can throw out a broken microwave, maybe we never have to be content with what we have.

This is my goal -- to be content right now. Here, wherever "here" is this year, is good enough. At the same time, I want to make it count in a way that is meaningful either to me or to someone else. Whether I work on my health, start writing poetry, I dunno, just have something that matters to me, I feel like I may just come out of this battle a better person, rather than someone who spent the year waiting for life to start.