Well, this year we're supposed to be going. It's this Saturday.

I've gone ahead and gotten a head start on freaking out about the traffic and crowding, but the company should be good, so I'm also looking forward to it.

I must say that I never really saw that coming.

Though perhaps I should have.

And now I get to live with the consequence of my blindness.

If I can.

---

It's so weird to feel myself functioning via reflex.

A car passes my house, and a stray photon from its headlights strikes my phone and bounces into my eye. My brain interprets this peripheral vision as my phone lighting up. Reflex takes over. I jerk my head.

False alarm. It's nothing. I sigh with relief.

---

This, of course, shall pass eventually. The friction of daily life will inexorably wear down the inertia of emotion with which I've lived for so very long. This will stop. I will stop.

I don't know who I am.

I guess I'm about to find out.

I hope I'm not a dick.

What I think, and I've thought this before, is that this is a really good stopping point.

Not ideal, certainly, but is there really such a thing as an ideal stopping point? And this is about as good as it's going to get, I'm afraid.

And, of course, the question is - will we take advantage of this opportunity, or will we squander it as we've done with all those that have preceded it?

And the other question is - if we do squander this opportunity, why?

I'm not sure what to call it when this happens, when I wake up like this after only a couple hours of sleep. I don't think it's insomnia - that's for when I can't fall asleep in the first place - but it should certainly be called something. I'd nominate bullshit but that word is already over-used.

Tonight I'm struck with the urge, more than on almost any other night I can remember, to vent. To just let it all out and say everything that's on my mind. To just start typing and not stop until I've said it all. To tell this entire story.

Because people don't know. They only see the shadows.

I'm trying to write tonight. I'm trying to write well. I've sat at my computer for two hours. I've written two thousand words, and I've deleted almost all of them. None have been good enough, and that's been the problem all along. None have ever been good enough for this.

Understanding, acceptance, even belief have been denied me, because my words haven't been good enough.

It was really fucking crowded when I got to Jack's last night. So crowded, in fact, that I had to walk back outside and try to come up with reasons to go back inside. I guess the reasons that I came up with were (a) I'd driven down there, (b) I wanted a beer, and (c) I'd already told OddlyFamiliarGirl that I was there and (d) she was on her way.

Originally, there wasn't going to be any beer last night, and therefore no Saturday Beer Report. I'd had an impromptu date at my house, and we watched Big Fish and Meet Dave courtesy of Netflix. Those two movies put me into a bad mood, mostly the latter, because it was so stupid.

So I decided, once I was alone, that I didn't really want to be alone. So I went to Jack's.

I managed to grab a table and, once OddlyFamiliarGirl showed up, we sat and talked for a couple of hours. I had two bottles of Rogue Dead Guy (879) and they were very good.

Oh yeah, now I'm supposed to watch Gone with the Wind, because OddlyFamiliarGirl says I'm either Rhett or Scarlett. It's been a long time since I've watched that movie, but I'm pretty sure I own it and it's around here somewhere.

After OddlyFamiliarGirl went home, I moved up to the bar and had some Diet Coke and talked to these chicks who kept having flaming homers or something like that. I asked if the flames made the drinks taste any different, and they admitted that it was all just for show.

It's possible, even for me, to see clearly. If I squint my eyes in just the right way, if I cause this illusion to be distorted by just the right amount, the truth appears.

But if I feel something strongly enough, if I believe something with enough conviction, if I know something with enough confidence, then does it really matter if it's real or not?

If it's absolutely real to me, doesn't that count as reality for me? If the truth differs from what I know with all my heart, then doesn't the truth become irrelevant to me?

I've written before that hope is self-defeating - it exists only to disappoint because, once fulfilled, it vanishes - and I still believe those words. But beyond hope lies belief, and beyond belief lies knowledge.

And this one thing, I know. I just know.

I am here for a reason.

People can, and do, say that I'm crazy and stupid and childish and stubborn and blind and weird and any number of other derogatory adjectives they can come up with. People say these things and they think these things and they pity me and sometimes they even pray for me, that I might open my eyes, or squint them just right, and see clearly.

Well, my eyes are wide-open. I see just fine, thank you very much.

I am crazy and stupid and childish and stubborn and blind and weird, but those are merely symptoms. Shadows on the wall lacking enough dimensions to ever be more.

The truth, as I see it, is all that matters.

I know the truth. It's my truth and nobody can take it away from me.

I fucking know.

Omaha was just too far away, I finally realized. I really wanted to be there, but I didn't want to go there. It's a 13-hour drive, after all.

But I still wanted and needed to go somewhere, just to get away from this situation for a night. So, I went to Covington KY.

The drive up was uneventful for the most part, except for the inevitable slew of emails and texts that always start streaming in whenever I'm driving. I replied to those as well as I could and managed to not get myself killed in the process.

When I was about halfway to Covington, SassyGirl called! We talked for a half-hour or so as I made my way up I-71. She and JauntyGirl are in Las Vegas, of all places. And so, of course, is HatGirl. And StupidGirl, of course, lives there. So three of my favorite women on Earth are all in Las Vegas at the same time. I'm a little surprised that MixedSignalGirl didn't call me to tell me that she was there as well.

And there I was, going to stupid Covington KY.

Once I arrived, I had my usual Covington lunch at Skyline Chili, then drove the short distance (it was raining) to the Mainstrasse area and went into the Cock & Bull bar. Not much has changed since I was last there in November, and that was good. And they still had Moerlein OTR on tap!

Yay!

So I had a couple pints of that (400) and decided that I'd be spending the night in Covington. I hadn't really made up my mind until then. I went and got myself a hotel room and took a nap for a couple of hours.

Went back to the Cock & Bull bar at 8:00 or so. I ordered an OTR, but they'd changed kegs and there was something wrong with it, so I only had a few sips (403) before switching to Newcastle. Then, after my Newcastle (12578) I decided to risk the OTR again. I figured maybe the glass had just been soapy or something. Well, I guess I was right, because my next OTR (423) was just fine.

Switched to Diet Coke and then, once the Cock & Bull got too crowded, I went back to the hotel and tried to sleep.

At 12:30 or so I gave up on sleep and drove home.

It has been proposed that it was weird for me to drive home last night. Perhaps, but I could tell that it was going to be a long sleepless night for me, and I was really dreading driving home this morning on little or no sleep. Better, I reasoned, to just drive home last night when I was still semi-alert. So that's what I did.

I was still awake at 5:00 when HatGirl started texting me from Las Vegas. I didn't complain because (a) it was HatGirl, and (b) I was awake anyway.

I think I finally got to sleep at 6:30 or so. Then I was awakened at 10:30 with an accusatory email.

Still fucking awake.

Las Vegas is so lucky!

So I dropped HatGirl off at the airport, and hung out there with her for an hour or so before she had to go through security. Next, I was planning to just go over to Rich O's because I was meeting BadPickleGirl and some other people at 5:30 or so. But around 4:00 I found myself suddenly starving to death. I mean, I was so hungry that I was actually shaking a little bit. So I went to the haunted Burger King and scarfed down some food. After that I felt better, but my stomach was a little queasy.

I went to Rich O's. I sat at the throne and had a couple glasses of Diet Coke to calm my stomach. I glared at my phone. I waited for BadPickleGirl.

Once they all showed up, it was a pleasant enough evening. I had some glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (10040) and then a Diet Coke. It was nice to be able to talk to some people closer to my own age.

I came home at 10:00 or so, then slept for a couple of hours before sleep once again escaped my grasp.

Tomorrow I want to take a trip.

The good news is that I'm taking HatGirl to the airport in a couple of hours.

HatGirl!

Yay!

The bad news is that I'm taking HatGirl to the airport in a couple of hours.

Days and days without HatGirl!

Boo!