the pen is mightier than the sword

medball last night was the best ever. the evening started slowly, with tuna sandwiches and shots of longan vodka. we got a ride there in dunno's car, and pretty much straight away i was catching up with people i hadn't seen for months and years. there was a strong final years turn out - everyone wanted to make the most of our last ball. throughout dinner, drinks, smokes downstairs, on the dance floor - the love was flowing freely, the air was warm and fuzzy, the sense of comraderie palpable. the end of our six year journey is in sight, at times even too quickly. together, we are living the dying moments of our university lives. it's flashing past us, and frantically we are trying to savour it, biting off pieces of each other and chewing madly, grinning, laughing, laying down memories that must last forever:

brumbles, a myriad of pink and purple, blue and green, a pixie with her large grey-gold eyes and her wild flowing brown curls; lou, in shimmering pink, her sheer dress showing off her tanned swimmer's legs, laughing at baz, who seemed to me to have grown even taller in the last few months, towering over everyone; xiang looked like a gorgeous film goddess, her black eye shadow and dress smouldering; pete, always reserved, listening and shrugging his shoulders; jim making funny faces with me to the camera; gal making the most of the unlimited beverages and busting moves on the dance floor, with an energised mike darting in and out of groups of moving shaking twisting bobbing people; mark with his silver hat; joe with his big big smiles; manny trying to find his feet, red faced, still delivering his passes at all the girls with the usual zest; mary, in a stunning white dress with pink frills and her black hair bobbing in a multitude of perfect curls; eric, looking the most relaxed i've ever seen him, grinning; suz wearing a very flattering dress; rong and larry, hand in hand; paul with his darth vader mask; a very drunk steph falling into everyone's arms; ed with red wine down the front of his silk shirt; some random bloke who spent half an hour talking to me about flying... and with a startle, it was time to leave for the after party. a frenzy of photos, promises to see each other later, hugs and kisses, and a very drunk gal being escorted out by three bouncers.

in midst of all the happy chaos of the night, i remember catherine telling me about letters. when people put things down in writing, their words have so much power, they mean more than is said. i've gotten a few letters through the years and i've written lots of them. i've never been one to take photos; i can't draw or paint well enough to capture anything; and my double bass playing days have long faded into pleasant memories. but i love writing. i love words. they are the only tools i know how to use, even if only in a clumsy and inadequate way, to leave footprints behind me as i wander through the mysteries of life.