Paul and I had a funny conversation about how a big night out always starts with reasonable fun dance moves, but the more drinks consumed, the more experimental the moves get. Finally, the dancer has reached that point where they are going so mental and flailing about that everyone in the room is staring and the performer has no idea. Well, if they do, they don’t care – because they’re having the best time of their life and they’re too drunk to know how stupid they look.
I am this person. I suffer from experimental drunk dance off syndrome. There I’ve admitted it. Now I can begin my detox. Earlier nights, smaller than high leg kicks replaced by modest finger snapping. I’m working on it.
Unfortunately, this city has already been violated by my dance-a-thon wrath. I have been drunk since June and gracing every dance party with a wild sweaty rage. I’ve been having a lot of fun letting the oxford street blues consume me entirely, but I think I’ve finally gotten all of the partying out of my system. I supposed the bender comes with a break up from a 3 year relationship. I’m telling myself that it’s completely normal and I really believe that.
The past two weeks have been a detox and I’m ready for that change. I’m still a social monster and there is plenty of red wine hovering about, but I’ve been home by 12 on weekends and spending more time finding inner peace rather than expelling inner dance moves.
It’s easy to let alcohol smothered nights consume us. It’s exciting to meet new people or just go to the same places and wonder if something interesting will happen with the regular people. But then it gets to that point where I miss myself and time I want to spend in my own head rather than share my time with everyone else.
After work runs and art cult movies have been the new bender. I’ve got some great books to curl up with and a few creative expeditions I need to embark on. A road trip is in the making and a metal repair plan in action. I am feeling like life is always changing and I appreciate all of the unexpected challenges and opportunities it has to offer. I feel fortunate that my mind is healthy – or maybe idealistically disillusioned, but I’m happy to be in my head even if it is wearing rose coloured glasses.