i am wide awake and waiting for the canada-usa hockey game to start in about three hours time – i should probably get some sleep, but i am rather excited, so i while away the hours, drinking tea, staring out of the window in the star-crested night, writing long lonesome letters to far-away friends and listening to chopin – and, suddenly overcome by a deep lust for reading, i have also fetched my rilke letters and feel like perfecting the art of my letter writing by studying with a master

why is canada so far away and why are so many people i care so much about so far away and mostly in canada as well? – questions life will not be able to answer and listening to chopin most certainly will not help but rather put me in an even worse contemplative mood – the thing is, i don’t really care – just weeks ago, a night like this would have brought on a massive attack of depression, but right now i revel in melancholy – it will only be moments before i bring out my old diaries and highschool yearbooks and get myself lost in times long gone by – loves lost and mourned for, friendships held dear over the years, adventures taken and adventures forsaken – i think to enjoy life in the present and life for the moment, you have to dive into the past occasionally and remember the good and bad times you had