Watched my cat die, it's been a month.

Last night I went to a party at my supervisor's place, which happens to be my old apartment building.
I haven't been in that building since 2001 or so.
A few hours into the partying, which was some mighty fine partying mind you: I remembered that you can climb up onto the roof. The view was excellent as it offered you a panoramic view of Philadelphia's skyline. You can see the Mushulu all the way to University Hospital.
Nat and I went up there for a smoke, with Dave shortly following.
I didn't say much. I probably was talking quite a bit, but nothing meaningful.
Drunk-speak.

After a few minutes I sat myself up on the deck railing and let a second cigarette burn itself to death in a jacket-cuffed hand.
Four years ago, 23, I sat on this railing and:
I thought about how great it was to have a girlfriend.
I thought about how much I hate my father.
I thought about how in the hell was I going to land that kickflip.
I thought about how I was going to justify not talking to my best friend.

I didn't think much about what I wanted from life.

Last night, 27, I sat on that railing and:
I don't think about her anymore, much. We talk every couple months or so and that's it.
My father and I have reconciled for the most part.
I landed that kickflip.
Stephen McClintock 1978-2002.

I realize how much I've been hiding from life.