09 May 2003 - 11:22 p.m.
I am, at this moment, having a very disturbing IM conversation. Well, i guess it's mostly over now... But anyway, here's the story:
I'm sitting here, minding my own boring boring business when -bling!-, I have an Instant Message. From Ophelia, an old friend to whom I used to be very close. Sweet girl, absolutely gorgeous, but a little crazy (AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm prone to understatement). We don't talk much these days, so it was kinda out of the blue. So she tells me about how she's moved back from New York, and she's living with her fiance, and she might start teaching theater, and so on, and then I realize: she's drunk. Very. (this is, of course, an assumption on my part, but I'm pretty sure it's valid). This explains why A) she started chatting with me in the first place, and B) her typing is gradually getting worse and worse.
Once I realize this, the whole thing starts to weird me out. Historically, she's not what you'd call a "healthy drunk", and she's already mentioned that she's alone. So her new fiance relationship has already picked up some less-than-pleasant overtones when she says "Gee, I guess I won't be able to do this when I'm pregnant". I, of course, inquire, and she says she wants to have kids. Soon, preferably within a year. She's 22. All of these sketchy concepts start bubbling in my mind--drunkenness, sketchy fiance, pregnancy--mixed with years of history, and what I'm left with is with of an ominous mental soup. The old "something isn't right" feeling (which dear Ophelia so often stirred in me, back in the day).
And so now I'm wondering if I should mind my own damn business, or drop a line later to make sure everything's okay, and I wasn't just cry-for-helped. I'm sure (knowing me) I'll try to help, and probably either look like an idiot or be ignored, but hey... Why stop now, right?
Either way, I've got nothing to do now but sleep on it, so I'm just going to give my ominuos soup time to gel (eewwww, gelled soup) before I end up with another 4am rant.
I find these "around midnight" rants are, if nothing else, better typed than their wee-hour brethren.
Back, to the caverns of history - Onward, to glory!
