Not all that gleams is golden.

Back, in another chapter of my life, I once held a job called Residence Advisor, where I had to council freshman college students on some facts of life. Dont drink with fraternities and here is some condoms--use them. Such were some of the lessons I had to impart. Another such lesson arrives at me now. It is called the W-curve and we all go through it, even for me, right now.

The W-curve is a simple concept. New experiences follow an emotional curve in the shape of a W. At the start, feelings are grand, everything is new, and life couldn't be better. But as time goes by, and your new balloon becomes ever so deflated, you hit the first depression of your own unique W. What was new about your experience is now tiresome, what was unique is now blase´and wearisome. The ups and downs of the emotional experience continues until an adjustment is finally made and your new baseline is finally reached.

I thought my baseline had been reached, until about three days ago when my stress levels seemed to keep climbing, with never a dip. That feeling creeps over where you dont want to get up in the morning, dont want to goto bed at night, and everything in between feels like drowning and until the mind turns into a dumb state of numb, a knife so dull it couldn't cut air.

Simply put, I miss my old outlets of stress relief that had become a weekly ritual for me and some of my closest others. Poker at seedy lesbian bars where the waitresses were over friendly, and your friends over the top, and the smoky atmosphere near choking, and yet delightfully perfect. Meeting a friend at Sally's or Big Ten's for a round of artery clogging sandwiches, stale popcorn, and cheap beer--sometimes with a game of cribbage--sometimes with a game darts.

Hanging out with the family was always a great stress reliever. There I could immerse myself in their lives--hear their problems and tell mine, with me always leaving feeling better, knowing others out there often have more pressing problems than my own, and with mine feeling smaller by comparison.

There are others I miss--running on the Mississippi, biking across the Stone Arch Bridge, a walk through Minihaha Falls, grilling at the Poker house, Frisbee golf, techno dancing, a motorcycle ride in the rain.

And of course, the last vestige that keeps me from going insane, on days when insanity feels like the only real option--I write. Sometimes you see it (here), sometimes its in the thick brown book. Thanks for reading.