So many doors but only one key

Fall. Tumble. Roll. Spin around. Look up dizzied. Get up on your feet. Find sure footing. Compose yourself. Let your stomach settle. Sigh.

I'm having trouble even approximating these last few months through thoughts, so it'll be a miracle if I can make any sense of them with words. Where to start? No event served as a catalyst for the mess that is my last little while, so I really would not know where to start.

I went on tour with my rock n' roll band. That's interesting enough. I managed to accomplish one of my dreams. To drop everything that may or may not have mattered and just head out in a van with some of my friends and play music in far away places. It was a nice experience that wasn't without it's low points, but that goes without saying. It was an elating experience and one that I'd like to repeat, making sure to put to good use the many lessons that I (we) learned over the course of the trip.

I'll probably put together something of a tour recap in the coming days when I get the chance. It'll most likely be a diary short story type of thing detailing some of the potentially humorous or dramatic events that we encountered.

The tour itself really came at the most ideal of moments. My emotional life had been one of great tumult over the last year and I finally managed to put an end to something that occupied my mind quite abit over someone who meant(means) a great deal to me. Of course, on par with most of my other romantic stories it ends in rejection. Though it should be noted that it's always that much harder when the way in which someone rejects you reminds you of why you liked that person so much in the first place. Anyhow, what I meant to say was that the tour managed to distract me from bruised emotions, and that is no small feat.

Since returning however, I've been quite rudderless. I'm unemployed, my lease is up in a month's time and I have no immediate ambitions or goals to look forward to. I've been filling my days watching the Harry Potter movies, playing basketball (and subsequently getting my court stolen by unruly children) and going on unnecessarily dangerous bike rides through the Gatineau park. So where to? Hopefully the next few days will give me a clue.

On the scholarly front, I can't complain too much. After leading a frightfully ricketty winter semester, filled with extravagant moments of procrastination, tremendous loss of motivation and low expectations, I managed to finish up with some of the best marks I've had over my university years. I'm puzzled yet pleased. Next up, my final year of journalism school. How strange; I'm conscious that I've learnt tons, but I have no idea how to apply this know-how. Maybe that's what the third year is for. Maybe the third year is intended to mould this shapeless form you have before you and make something worthwhile out of it. Maybe? You'll hear from me soon.

p.s. thank you to max for the title