Last night I had a few beers by myself, bucking the trend of staying relatively sober in my new apartment. Funny thing is that I didn’t really get drunk. I had the first beer at around seven fifteen, and the fourth around nine forty five, so they were spaced out relatively well. None of this chugging to get as buzzed as possible as quickly as possible that I was doing back in Brighton.

At any rate, I feel all right today. I don’t have that nasty, gritty feeling in my head and behind my eyes that usually accompanies being hung over. Instead I have a very slight ache in my head, and a vague sense that I could use a bit more sleep, but that’s about it. These are the sort of hangover symptoms that will be gone by 10AM at the latest.

The major stress, work-wise, for today, is the 1:1 that I have with Neil. I’ll try to do what I did yesterday: get to work, make a list of things that need to be done, and start going through them. A top priority will be looking through my weekly status reports and goal outlines to see how I’m doing and come up with some material to talk about. Should only take 20 minutes or so – it’s just scary to look at. But I can confront this fear and push through it, right? It’s better to finish things than to leave them undone.

Reminder: Purchase female:female VGA adapter. This is so that I can connect the (very long) VGA cable extention that I got to the VGA->Screenplay 8405 projector that is coming in the mail.

Yesterday I saw Vince Caruso in the office for the first time. He said that he’d ”heard that I had a wicked bachelor pad around here.” This comment made me feel sort of sick for a minute or two, because the implication is that I'm a scummy womanizer, but if I reshape the implication to be something less judgmental and more generic – young man who is untied and free – then yes, he's right. I have an apartment that is completely suited to my tastes. I can be selfish and decorate it however I like, and no one is here to stop me or provide me with negative feedback or criticism. It’s all mine. I can hook up five video game systems in my living room and have a projector that monopolizes space along an entire wall, and there’s not even a whisper of complaint. Not looking at you here Lisa.

A couple of other things.

My old high school friend Cal called yesterday, at my work number (he must have dialed my Brighton number and gotten a message with my new work phone number) and dropped a bomb: Ari bought a house in Cabbagetown, Alabama.

Weird. To be fair it seems like a nice place, and only 205K – the wonder of living in Alabama, I suppose – but seriously. What does Ari need a house for? Cal joked that we should go and visit him in the next six months before he defaults on all of his payments. I think he was only half joking.

At any rate I have Ari's number now and I do hope to be able to call him at some point during the day to see what’s going on. Cal also used the phrase “intervention.” As in “If there’s anything we can do to stop him from doing this, we should.” And I have to agree, on two fronts. One, he is trying to settle down. Us bachelors will never settle down, amirite or amirite? And two: Cabbagetown? If you are going to settle down, pick a better fucking place than that dude.

Suki Tan emailed my sister Jenna asking for my contact information. Suki's helping to plan the HHS 10 year reunion and they’re trying to hunt people down. There is a crazy little voice inside of me that keeps saying something like “you! You! They need you, you’re the most special person EVER, and the show can’t go on without you!” but I do recognize that as just my ego talking. The truth is that they never cared much about me – that whole group of people, really. Suki, Tina K, Kavita V, Jamie G, Rob P, and so on, the lot of them. Honestly they didn’t. I was just a slightly crazy kid that they had to suffer through class with. Sarcastic and annoying and poorly dressed, but mostly just immature. They don’t honestly want me to go.

And yet I sort of do want to go. Just this morning, for example, I was in my bathroom looking at myself. I look all right. Average at least for my age. My body is slim and toned. I have shoulders, dammit. Shoulders! A few muscles on my back come out and are visible. I’m squared and tanned and, fairly objectively speaking here, at least a six out of ten. I could still use a bigger jaw, but the smaller, delicate one doesn’t exactly make me look ugly either. I think to myself – and again, bear with me here, I know exactly how fucking pompous and terrible this sounds, but I can’t always control my thoughts – I think to myself well, I’m attractive, well-dressed, doing okay financially, employed – I may not be the hottest thing on wheels but I have nothing to be ashamed of, surely. I could go back to the reunion, catch up on peoples' lives, have a drink or two, and in return let them know I'm turning out okay too. Isn't that what normal people do?

And yet, when I think positive thoughts about myself, somehow it turns negative again quickly – I shouldn't be high on myself. The thoughts turn from good to bad and I start to hate myself for having a big head. I can’t help thinking them – the good thoughts – but then I catch myself thinking them and consider what kind of person has those thoughts and I know what kind of person does that. A blowhard does that. I don't want to be a blowhard. Then I feel ill, like I want to throw up inside my mouth. The thoughts are sickening.

And yet they will not be silenced, either. There seems to be a rather silly part of my brain that is only interested in constantly considering how great I am. And then another part that continually devises ways to become greater. Isn't that why I'm in software instead of trying to write? Or pursuing journalism, like Cal?

This part of me, really, at the end of the day, wants everyone to be jealous of Toby Urban. It’s probably tied to my wonderful inferiority complex.

I have named this drive, finally. It is: Ambition. It is at times my friend, and at others, my enemy. I must keep watch on it. I must make sure it does not seek to control me. Life is not about doing better than others. Life is about living, and loving, and trying not to die too soon.

Anyways, it’s 8:25 now and I should be going to work. Reunion, Ari's house, lalala and so on. None of it matters and I’ll be dead soon enough anyhow.