No, I’m not going vegan. I ate fried chicken last night! I also went to a bar on a weeknight for the first time since August 2015. The adventure felt like stepping into a familiar pair of sneakers – perfectly contoured to my footprint, while recognizing they went out of style 5 years ago.
My rockstar status used to mimic the young person who found early fame and spent their days writing, performing, and partying. I went to Jazz night every Thursday, plus sometimes an outing on Tuesdays. And always weekends. “Hangover” was a term that described being non-functional because a little headache and sluggish outlook was just part of a normal morning. Roll out of bed, drink some coffee, run to work, and do it all over again. Sometimes I woke up wearing sunglasses. Maybe a pile of Mardi Gras beads would arrive on the floor. Sometimes there was a welcome leftover pizza on the counter.
Jazz night may or may not have led to and ended with this guy:
Hence, I haven’t been out on a weeknight since August 2015 (and honestly, it rarely happens on Saturdays either).
Fast forward to today, 6:50 AM. I’m waking up with that also familiar headache and touch of sluggishness because I had two Corona and a Guinness last night. A magical space in time opened a window where Castor fell asleep early and friends were enjoying $3 taps at the Hollander. And while being that cool human who experiences the world for a few hours brought a nice wave of confidence, I’ve been awake for an hour this morning and gotten nothing done. I’ve only made coffee and stared at the wall reconsidering what the rest of my life will look like.
The rockstar still lives, but I think it’s time to go full Justin Hawkins and look forward to socializing over steamed vegetables, yoga, and tea. I’ve got a lot of creativity happening in the way of my corn, beans, and medicinal herbs in the garden, nurturing a small human, and providing the best support to the best open source platform ever. Creative spaces are sacred spaces, and mine have grown to such a large portion of life, the fun that leads to a Wednesday morning hangover has lost its savor.
Puddles of Thought 