Lately I've been tired.  It's been a real thing, apparent to people immediately upon seeing me.  I saw kfringe about two weeks back and he remarked how tired I looked.  He said I seemed... slow.  Like I had been trapped in vaseline.  It's a hard point to argue, really.  Work has been exactly what one would expect: annoying, long, and frustrating.  Also, and this is probably pretty obvious to most, last week marked one year since my girlfriend Star died.  I wasn't exactly feeling up to snuff. 

The day of the anniversary itself, one of three anniversaries I think of when thinking of Star, was strange.  I was angry for most of it, just terribly angry.  The kind where you growl your words out between gritted teeth, where you are so exhausted by your anger that you need to sleep.  I couldn't really be around people.  I spent most of the day locked up in my apartment, occupying myself with little things. 

At eleven o'clock that night I went down to see her.  That's what I call it when I go to see her memorial at Rittenhouse Square, "going to see her".  And it turned me around.  I had wanted to go earlier in the day, in the late morning, but I just couldn't bring myself to it yet.  I'd needed time.  So I went at eleven and we talked.  I just blathered on for a while about her, us, me, and after an hour or so I actually felt calmer, relaxed.  I smiled, I joked.  I felt like I'd maybe figured things out a little more. 

I rode that for days.  Quit smoking for a little while.  Saw nodeva , Tim, and the little man, sarcasmom and Glenn, which was incredible fun.  Those people make a guy feel loved. 

Today... well, today I feel different.  I don't feel so good.  I feel tired again.  But let's not talk about that right now.  Maybe I'll say something tomorrow morning.  Tonight, I just want to leave this on a happy thought. 

Last night I sang.  It had been a year since I'd done Karaoke last and I couldn't have asked for a better moment to return to it.  It was Tom Boutell's (or boutell 'round here on the ol' LJ) big 37th birthday bash and I knew I needed to be there.  Last year on the same day was what Star and I would later refer to as our "first first date", when she invited me along to go to her friend Tom's birthday bash, the night I asked her if I could ask her out, the first time we kissed.  I wanted to be there for her.  But hell, I also wanted to be there for myself, to have a good time, to be out.  Good friend, wingman and home girl Kirsten, or crowyhead was a long for the the ride and the moral support and it was on. 

Quick aside: Having Kirsten and Sarah, or feanorsgrrl be my wingmen for my return to the dating world is amazing.  I was scared for a while, but they've been ceaselessly supportive.  A thank you to you both.  Just remember, I'm Maverick, you guys can fight it out over who's Goose and Wizard. 

Quick aside the second: I've seen Top Gun too many times.  I am dangerous. 

We walked up the stairs to the second floor of Moriarty's, a local watering hole and karaoke joint in Center City, and I was immersed in a crowd of good friends.  Tom, Glenn, Michelle, the other Michelle, and so many more were hanging around, most drinking ginger ale or water, singing and having a blast.  There were many people there that hadn't seen me since the last birthday party, so I got a lot of "You look really good!"s, which is strange.  I'd forgotten how bad I looked after Star died.  It was heartening to hear that I looked improved.  I felt improved. 

Four pints of lager later and I was having a grand time.  I met plenty of new people, all very fantastic, and caught up with some old friends.  Tom and I compared tattoos, Glenn and I talked of Marillion, I was introduced to boyfriends and girlfriends. 

I hemmed and hawed a bit about what song I would sing.  You see, I had to sing something.  Had to.  I just didn't know what.  My singing voice sadly lacks the depth or intricacy of some of my favourite singers, like Chris Whitely or Jeff Buckley.  My range is a tenor, so what I can sing well(?) is either kind of pop/rock stuff like Incubus, or do some fairly good male approximations of breathy female singers like Fiona Apple.  Rather than confuse people by choosing a song like Fiona's Criminal, I decided to go the other route.  After a toss up between Placebo's "The Bitter End" and an Incubus track, I went with Incubus.  I felt more confident singing it and I knew that I could remember the words without the prompter.  Also, I chose "Wish You Were Here", which just seemed appropriate. 

My song came up next to last in the rotation and I mounted the "stage" with what I hoped looked like confidence.  I grabbed the mic, said another happy birthday to Tom, and said something like "You all should know who I'm singing this for".  I only opened my eyes again about half way through the track, when I heard everyone in the room cheering for me.  Apparently, I can sing. 

When the song ended I walked over and gave Tom a big hug.  We talked for a minute and then it was time to go.  Kirsten and I grabbed our things, went downstairs for a quick smoke, then said our good byes to everyone and drove home, blasting Iggy Pop in the car.