Floating in the Foolery Boat, too

It's been a lonely three days here at Benchmark 306: Briggs is almost to the South Pacific, Joey is in Mexico, and Jenn is in Spring. I am sitting at our rickety dining table as I listen to Feist on Pandora and reflect on Jessica's post. This particular setting of solitude could have easily  fostered my naturist tendencies, but introspection already makes me feel naked enough. And here I am, blogging about my emotional nakedness!

Gee, Briggs. Your inaugural post had to be all sentimental and shit. The truth is, you're right: I have a bit of growing up to do, too. The scary part is that I'm supposed to grow up pretty soon—once I start my job in DC. Thank goodness I have a ridiculous cross-country bike trip to make before I sit at a desk for 50-60 hours a week.

I went to a wedding last night with some good friends, who also happen to be Texas 4000 teammates. The wedding ended at around midnight, and Mike and I decided to go downtown. Mike and I are both going up the Rockies this summer, and this weekend marks our last in Austin. This was definitely worth celebration, no?

We got to our first bar, Paradise, at 12:50 am in order to meet up with another teammate. We hopped to Spill to meet another group of friends, had beers handed to us by strangers as Mike handed off his mono, danced to old Usher songs as if they were on last weekend's Billboard Top 40, met up with a friend who tried to drive four of her friends home—despite her drunkenness. Thank goodness Mike took the wheel instead.

We drove strangers home, and I got home feeling strange.

I laid in bed at 2:30 or 3:00 am, feeling that the night at Sixth Street wasn't that eventful, but was nevertheless good: doing something is better than doing nothing, and doing something with friends is best. 

The details of each Sixth Street experience will vary with each outing, but my reels of memory show that everything blends into oblivion, and the colors are all the same.

As I start saying goodbyes, I'm try to hold on to the feelings that I'm leaving behind: the security I feel in having a close group of compassionate friends; the warmth in coming home to Benchmark 306 and the reliability of the rickets in this rickety table; the excitement and energy in going to Sixth Street when I already know what the night is going to be like. 

I also find beauty in relationships where friends grow separately without growing apart. But, I also find beauty in the fact that we're really not growing separately—ever. Certainly, we're growing in our own ways, but we're also growing, together. The kids at Benchmark 306 might be traveling to different corners of the world, but my senses tell me that our paths will eventually converge—if not literally.

We're young, we're foolish, and we have a lot to learn, but we're all in the same place.