The Not So Perfect Comeback.

I'm not sure who's still out there...but the comeback is approaching. I'm just waiting for the right time. The right words. The not so perfect moment when I know exactly what to say. It's coming. I can feel it. Can you?

Worn.

I have these few moments, these minutes I can see pass by, to tell you that I'm overwhelmed by a book. A book that I've had a heavy hand in creating and a heavier heart in finishing. I'm busied by it's pages, awed by it's design, and proud of it's message. Of course there's a team involved. Isn't there always? There should be. And my teammates have been more like an old pair of sneakers this week, tied tightly, always comfy, yet inevitably worn out. We'll make it though. We're fresh like that.

Just ahead, I see my resolution. Yeah, there's a vacation. A boat. A big boat. But there's friends and roommates and flip flop faces that I'm even more anxious to float on with.

...Some playlists never pause. In the rear view mirror I can see the scene kids. Twitter's kept them closer than they know.

Switch

Not sure what to say, except that it's Friday. It's the end of the week. Release? Perhaps. For many it's really more of a switch. A detour from life. Off the commute, onto the airwaves. Reality on the weekdays, passion come the weekend. It's all leading up to that moment, that epic day when the latter explodes, and reality is nothing but passion. Ideally. Hopefully. Tomorrow?

Rabbit Rabbit Recap.

Alright. I'm doing this. I'm a blogger aren't I?



Start where I left off? The tough part about waiting so long in between posts, is that you can never properly give credit to the moments that made your days interesting. But I'll have to try.



I think Saturday is well worth talking about. I woke up in a juice box daze. I was filled with high fructose confusion and felt no more supported than a thin paper bag. It took a two hour car ride home to suck the previous night out of my system, and yet I was still left restless and dehydrated. Band practice woke me up a bit, I guess it'd be weird if it didn't. After all, there's only so much sound Anthony's 1980s throwback basement can withold. Colby and I went hunting for bagels. We found a place. The "Bagel Boss" in fact. I got an everything, toasted, with tuna salad. It's one of my favorites, so I feel the need to advertise. When the music faded, I did too. I napped (which I never do) on the couch. Next thing I knew it was 3:45. I needed energy fast. Mike was giving up on our day's next activity, and I needed to convince him otherwise. Naturally, I did.



Roosevlet Field big freeze. Simple concept - public place, hundreds of participants, even more unsuspecting citizens. At 4:25 we would all freeze in place (preferably mid-action) and hold our pose for a full five minutes. The ordinary people, the shoppers, the eaters, still moving along, are left mesmerized and bewildered by the sudden freeze. Sounds amazing, and it really can be and has been, but on this particular day there were lots of younger participants who had trouble keeping it "real." Laughter and abandoned poses tainted the effect. Luckily there were a few of us who took the mission seriously, catching a few double glances and even a full body investigation. Even if it didn't run as smoothly as it could have, it was still pretty chilling to hear the cheers of a thousand or so participants echo through the hall at about 4:31.



From there we went to Jacob's show, who I'd never seen live before. He was unbelievable. There's only so much you can do with a stool beneath you and a keyboard at your fignertips, but he does a great job of shadowing those restrictions with an unbeatable spirit. Later, it became clear just how long it's going to take for DOB to live Room Raiders down, at least while Sean and Mike are still alive. The teasing was innocent, the laughter guilty as ever. Anyway, after the show, came the after party (thank you Jay-Z). Except instead of patron and cavier, we had bud light and frosted animal crackers. I'd say they're about equivalent. It was a very "scene" night. The kitchen served as a hub of debate- debate about nothing more important than whether or not you look at the animal you've picked out before eating the cracker. I do...though I'm still not sure why.

Sunday took me into Astoria with my asian sidekick. Frappes, gyros, and aimless reminisence filled our afternoon. Never gets old, really.

Back at Marist, Clare made soup. The soup was incredible, as usual. I don't know how to describe the evening other than...comfortable. So comfy I abandoned the work I probably should've been doing. I guess it's easy to spend 2 hours talking about vacation t-shirt slogans.

Typically I'd say it was a fantastic Sunday...because it was. But as soon as night rolled around, pictures were posted, and "you should've been there" phone calls started coming in...I felt unsure about what I had done. I missed "the best time ever" as certain people reffered to it. Now, I say that all the time, but my friends know I'm just exaggerating. But this time...it really wasn't hard to believe. I genuinely felt that I had missed out. Missed out on a family I wish I could've been there for. There's nothing I can do now, and I know it's no reflection of a love lost, but sometimes it's hard to escape a memory that isn't even yours. I will say that I'm proud of them. And by them I mean tC. And by tC I mean the whole Love Army. And by the whole Love Army, I mean my friends.

March came. Monday came. Snow came. College came. Tuesday came. Procrastination came. Wednesday came. Interning came. Lot's I want to talk about, none of which I'm "legally" permitted to.

Here I sit,

Tim. Recapped.