Sometimes it takes being drunk at 3:45 in the morning with a small group of friends on a Sunday night to return back to reality and the beliefs that I strongly stand by. Of course it makes typing in your private blog a much harder feat to accomplish with all the goddamn backspacing but damn if I ain't sober enough to realize that I'm making typos...
It is during drunken slurring with close friends about politics and religion that I remember my faith in compassion for others and human suffering. It is in this state that I realize my "okayness" (of course not a word but oh so fitting and appropriate right now) with the crappy luck I have and the financial destruction my wedding is putting me through. It's ok. It will be ok. I could be a lot worse off. I deserve an awesome wedding.
In any event, I went to the memorial of my coworker this morning. Despite the fifty gazillion funerals/wakes I've been to, it is this one that I was touched by the most and probably cried at (other than my grandmother's) the most. Never have I experienced such outpouring of love and admiration, and deservedly so, for someone so great. It was, despite it's sad pretense, an uplifting memorial. It was a remembrance of a great man and all the lives he touched and continues to live on in rather than the overwhelming grief of the great man we lost.
Yes, 3:54 a.m., inebriated yet so fucking lucid.
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