Well, as violent mood-swings go, that one lasted a little bit less than 24 hours.
by krisis
I’m not sure what came over me.
Okay, i’m actually quite sure of what came over me. I had been having a shitty depressing day and i didn’t want it to continue into a shitty night and possibly an altogether miserable weekend. I decided that a Best Friend was needed to salvage what was left of my evening, so i put in a phone call to Laurel.
What’s strange is that i don’t do this; i don’t call people up on a Friday night to see what they’re doing. If there’s a party i’ll be there, and if we’re all going out to eat i might show up, but i’m not really into the whole one-on-one hanging out scene. It’s like dating without the date. Or something. But, anyhow, tonight i really just needed to get out of the house, and Laurel was heading out to see a mutual acquaintance of ours play at the NorthStar, so off we went.
I had never been inside of NorthStar bar, because every time someone i want to see plays there it’s not an all ages show. Being an all ages show, tonight was heavy on the college crowd and what had to be a couple dozen fourteen-year-olds who were definitely more punk than i’ll ever be. I am, let’s face it, about as non-punk as it gets. Well, other than Laurel. Although, Laurel at least has boppy ska-grrl potential if we were to get her into a plaid skirt. I, on the other hand, looked like i got lost on the way to a very touching Emo concert; i self-consciously shoved my token studded bracelet into my pocket with tongue firmly planted in cheek.
Laurel happened to be less punk than me precisely because of her bopping … she’s totally unembarrassed to dance around and have a good time, regardless of whether or not she’s fitting in with “the scene.” I, on the other hand, am definitely intimidated by scenes — so much so that i feel desperately out-of-place even at an Ani DiFranco concert (where i probably have as much scene credibility as anyone in the room who isn’t a lesbian). In light of this, i was of the more toe-tapping head-nodding persuasion until the last band came on and we pushed our way up to the front, at which point i actually exhibited some shoulder-movement and general rhythmic body-bopping. With much awkward self-consciousness, of course.
As embarrassment goes, we were definitely a distant second to the massive fist-fight that broke out when a Neanderthalic mosher crash landed too many times on a highly strung hard-core guy. Aside from the frightening part where i had to catch Laurel and ascertain that she hadn’t been struck with a ham-sized fist it was rather amusing; i’ve never been at a concert small enough that the performers stopped mid-song to admonish the moshers. But, anyway, it certainly drew attention away from our toddler-like dancing.
You know, i bet if they bopped more they’d be less violent.
Damnit, i’m much too tired to do this metaphorical bullshit effectively. Anyway, i have to go to class. Blagh.
I am not terrific at balance.
Last night a whole slew of assorted roommates and cast-members went ice-skating down on Penn’s Campus just past midnight. I don’t know what made this sound like such a good idea to me, considering that my only first and only experience on rollerblades was one of terror and a bruised bottom, but for whatever reason i gleefully laced up and hit the ice without giving too much though to how i intended to get anywhere.
Skating didn’t wind up being much of a problem, really … neither was locomotion. Ice is so different from gravelly road, and it was easy to just glide along on momentum or dig in to stop my locomotion. Mainly i was having issues with balance — with keeping my feet planted firmly on the ground. And, although falling really isn’t so bad, the whole time i found myself just striving for balance. And not finding very much of it.
By the end of the night i was admittedly pretty miserable, but as i glided off the ice and onto the blue rubbery comfort of the floor beyond i realized that i had done so without so much of a nervous thought about crossing traffic or moving smoothly; somewhere in there i had found a way to balance it all out, even if it was just for a few seconds at a time.
Falling is always easy. Falling is not so bad. But standing on my own two feet… it was something different.
I don’t really have a defined audience for this little escapade, you know? It’s just intended for anyone who wanders in off of the proverbial virtual street. I don’t say much about myself on my About page, i don’t have any “definitive” posts (though i do have a multi-thousand word “Best Of” section), and i don’t tend to give much background other than a backlink here or there — so it’s really up to the reader to define me through my words. I never really think about the introduction of a new reader to my page… how they define their context of me, or what they like about what i’m saying. They’re reading, so they must like something, right?
What i do have, though, is a little mental check-list of people who aren’t reading. My mother. My associates in the Admissions Office. My roommates. It’s not as though i’m saying things that i wouldn’t ever let them hear, but i would probably be a little bit more tight-lipped with them around. Less about depression. Less about drinking. Less about house-issues. Of course, not everyone has such a tidy little category of subjects that i would edit out for them and every once in a while someone surprises me — either with their investigative ability or their interest in my life. On those occasions i have to mentally remove them from the list and say “Well, now i know they’re reading.”
What the hell am i trying to say? Well, let’s just say this: my telepathy might not be quite up to snuff, but my ability to have people i’m trying to communicate telepathically with read my posts about failed telepathy without actually thinking about the ramifications of them reading not only those posts but also all other past and future posts about them … that ability seems to be working just fine.
Actually, i think that last post said it best…