My roomie and I threw a Halloween party last night. We didn’t expect 50 people to show up, but that’s cool. Pretty sure a group of random girls in tye-dye shirts just snuck in uninvited, but they braided our string decorations or something before they left so they’re cool too.
I would have to say the highlight of the party was at midnight, when my wifey somehow convinced everyone to scare the shit out of me by pretending to be zombies. I was literally cornered and screaming my head off. Zombies are the one thing I absolutely cannot deal with.
It’s funny how everyone thinks that I don’t have a good time at parties anymore when I don’t act like a drunkard.
I don’t write much about what goes on in my life, but I thought it would be nice once in a while. Get ready for a long post, guys.
To start, here’s a list of things I’ve been working on recently:
I’ve always been good at focusing on myself, even when I’m in a relationship. If I want to be a better version of myself, I have the determination to do it. Any sort of progress I make becomes my incentive to continue.
When I first entered university, I let that newly acquired freedom get to me. I did the bare minimum required for my courses and partied the rest of the time.
I love purchasing journals from Barnes & Noble (well, from anywhere really), but I rarely write in them. Sometimes I would fill a quarter of one, then leave it in a box somewhere. I guess I simply enjoy having the option of filling them with elegant words and short stories. They give me room to dream.
There’s this bakery that my roommate and I like to stop by from time to time, not only because the pastries are delicious, but because the owner is one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. He would tell us stories about his family and his adventure-filled past, then leave us with advice to remind us that life is short. Though it sounds cliche, it does renew our determination to become a better version of ourselves.
We went back again recently. He wasn’t as cheerful this time, so my roommate and I threw in outrageous comments here and there in hopes of bringing a smile out of him. It worked, somewhat. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. We later found out that his father had passed away. Neither of us knew how to comfort him—we weren’t good in those situations. We simply gave him our condolences, but it seemed to be enough.
Every time before we leave, he would call us back and offer us free drinks. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. This time, he presented a flower to each of us along with drinks. I received a Magnolia. It’s my new favorite scent.
Next week, we’re going back again—with gifts long overdue.