An outbreak of Zen

I seem to have come down with inner peace.

A friend of mine told Megan (Rugby Girl) some things at the Co-op party tonight (which I had skipped the beginning of to go downtown with other friends) that, well, I would have preferred she not tell her.

I won’t go into it here, but suffice it to say, normally, I would have decked my friend for telling a girl I like and am trying to convince that I’m not ridiculously desperate what she told Megan.

For some reason, however, I really don’t care. My reaction to this has made absolutely no sense, from a logical perspective.

I didn’t deck her on the spot, and other than an embarrassed, “Oh my god! I can’t believe you told her that!”, I didn’t really say anything about it. This is so not me.

I get pissed off at the drop of a hat. I have a somewhat short temper most of the time, so normally recieving news like this would cause veins to bulge in my forehead and my hands to form involuntary fists.

But tonight? Eh.

Perhaps it’s the two mile walk home in the bitter cold while wearing cowboy boots talking, but for some reason, I’m not pissed. Maybe all the stress from midterms the last couple weeks has gone totally overboard, pushing me into some sort of weird calm. It’s happened before.

Or perhaps it’s the fact that I had two beers at the club I went to downtown and a Jell-O shot at the party, though my tolerance has become significantly higher since I turned 21. Perhaps I’ve accidentally killed all the brain cells that care.

Or perhaps I’ve just lost my mind completely.

But I guess I’ll find out whether this affects anything (or whether Megan even remembers this or took it seriously) in the next couple of days…

Until then, I think I’m going to savor my inner peace. I don’t get that too often.

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