Saturday, September 3, 2016

Punk Drunk Love

The following is result of Operation Blog Recovery (Of what I could retrieve): The following content is collected from a platform that is no longer operational. Gaps and spaces in the formatted text could be the result of broken and/or expired emoticons, links or web-hosted pictures. You can be assured that the opinions and thoughts expressed are from the original writing. Hell, I’m not even going to correct spelling or grammar. Enjoy! Or not.

Originally posted on 2/26/2009 
Current mood:  optimistic
Category: Life



As an increasing number of wayward and wiry gray hairs relentlessly poke through my braids, it’s clear to me that there is still so much living left to do. Even at my self-proclaimed maturity level, I’m currently having trouble channeling my passionate and creative energies in a positive way. What better way to keep the mental monkeys from chipping away at my delicate psyche than to write a blog? Blogging cleanses the palate and closes the pores of my often misunderstood personality. It could be the residual energy left over from last weekend’s activities that have me a little ‘scattered’. But it’s all good. My present mental state is just another step up the emotional evolutionary ladder I suppose. The work week has been plagued with special projects that have affected my regular work regime. I’m pretty spontaneous when it comes to most things, but work has to follow a routine schedule in order to keep me socially sane. As the week winds down, I’m optimistic things will settle into place if not by Friday, then the weekend should put things back in proper order. Thankfully I was off Monday, so I was able to properly recover from last weekend’s antics. Last Monday was an unavoidably low-key day because my laptop was acting a damn fool again. So, I checked my emails from the desktop and came to the conclusion that the technical problems with my temperamental laptop, might be The Universe telling me that I need to reconnect with a few people I’d temporarily lost touch with. I can’t say I was sincerely in the mood for a long ‘catch-up’ gab session but I wanted to be on record for at least making an effort to reach out. So, I sent out a few energetic e-mails, forwarded a couple of tantalizing texts and even left a few vixeny voicemails. Now I’m all caught up, on to other things.  Karaoke Sunday had a really weird vibe attached to it. Aside from me and my girls, everyone was acting like there was a freaky full moon out that night or something. I can’t provide specifics really, just know that a generous dose of ‘weirdness’ ruled the night. I’m always up for a little playful oddness but this wasn’t the type of odd one would typically appreciate. That night ended with me noticing about 4 missed calls on my cell, from 4 different numbers with the last number being that of the recently ever-present ex. Why the hell did he call me from 4 different and unfamiliar (to me) numbers? Weird and unnecessary. When I got home, I texted him asking what was wrong but he never replied and I wasn’t in the mood to talk so I didn’t call. He told me yesterday that he was just calling to say ‘hi’ as usual. For a minute I thought he’d finally discovered my MySpace Blog and wanted to curse me out for putting all our business in the street. I’m safe for now but it’s bound to happen eventually. So be it. In retrospect, I think part of the weirdness Sunday night had actually stemmed from an intoxicatingly fun Saturday night. It started off as any other Saturday. Early that morning, I got my nails done by the best nail technician this side of the Pecos. He’s in another city, so it’s not always convenient (or possible) to enjoy his meticulous nail artistry. But sis & I decided that we deserved to treat ourselves to the best and he delivered as usual. With my nails looking fly and being able to fit back into my bam jeans, I was feeling sexy, confident and adventurous. Later that evening, I got a few texts from the ex. He asked me what I was doing that night and where I was going, etc. I told him (what he already knew) and told him to have fun at the party he was planning to go to. He insinuated he might meet me later at the club and I told him that it wouldn’t be a good idea. I told him that I wouldn’t be alone and I didn’t want it to be awkward for him. Plus, if we aren’t getting back together and he wants to, what’s the use of hanging out together every weekend? He’d be getting what he wants (me) and I wouldn’t (freedom). No thanks.  I hadn’t really planned to meet anyone there that night but I didn’t want to be responsible for entertaining him all night. I wanted to enjoy some much needed Me Time. He didn’t contact me again that night, so I’m sure he was plenty peeved. Oh well.  Actually, it was good he didn’t come because the new friend showed up, and since they’d (the ever-present ex & the new friend) had that nonverbal macho pissing match the weekend before, it might have gotten ugly if too much alcohol and testosterone got mixed together. Like before, the new guy had me & sis laughing so hard that we were getting stomach cramps. This time, the Saturday Night Girl Party consisted of sis & I alone but we’re enough woman for any male-to-female ratio. Good thing too because the ex from MANY moons ago (to whom I lovingly refer to as Ex Lax) showed up that night also. I hadn’t seen him there in a few months and while it was kinda nice to see him, I could really go either way; see him or not see him-it doesn’t really matter to me.  For this next part, I’ll have to skip around a bit because I only remember bits & pieces. Instead of the macho pissing match of last week, this past Saturday night was a battle to see which of our ex beaus could buy the most drinks for us by the end of the night. Sis had her eager contestant and I had mine, each guy was generously buying drinks for either sister. Sure, we could’ve politely refused the generous offers of delicious libations but why interrupt the poetic flow?  After our end of the night drink fest, sis says she thinks she can drive us home safely. I tell her there’s no way in hell either one of us were driving…not in a million trillion years! Even though she’s the younger sister and I allow her to take lead on most things, when I put my Big Sister foot down on something, she doesn’t oppose me. She knows that I would never ever let anything bad happen to her because it’s my job to watch over her, ya know? A big sister’s work is never done.  Back to the late night alcoholic pickle we found ourselves in Saturday. It’s funny how maturity leads you to make responsible choices, even when you’re not fully aware you’re making them at the time. I tell sis through my alcoholic fog, that we were getting a room or something cause neither one of us would be safe behind the wheel of a car. She agreed. That was one of those deadly defining moments; do you or don’t you?  Fortunately (and without my knowledge), sis called Pam who didn’t go out that night but lived about a mile from our nightspot. She was there in the blink of an eye and had to fill in a lot of the rest of this story. She said when she walked into the club, she kept pointing at people asking who was responsible for our condition but the real culprits were embarrassingly obvious. Ex Lax and the new guy got into a minor, physical tug-of-war over which one of them was going to help me to Pam’s car. The story goes; I’m standing there by Ex Lax holding hands (him presumably holding me up), the new guy grabs me away from him (by the waist) and tells Ex Lax, “You can get her phone number some other time.” Ex Lax replies, “She won’t give me her number.” (which I won’t…drunk, sober or in between). The new guy yells at him, “Then give her your number man!” as he walks off with me. Ex Lax hands me his business card. I take it, glance at it and I moaned through my intoxicated haze, “I can’t read this, it’s upside down!” So someone, and I don’t know who, puts it neatly in my jacket pocket so I could get back to it when I figured out how to turn the business card right side up to read it.  In addition to Pam running around after us, she plays referee by keeping the two men from going at it. She says Ex Lax vents to her, letting her know quote; “That dude don’t know me like that! Who the fuck does he think he is?!” Now, I remember Ex Lax’s very rare but totally crazed-eyed fits of rage, so I could just imagine what it looked like to Pam. She calmly explains to each of them who the other is. Ex Lax didn’t appreciate the bold tenacity of the new guy protecting my honor in my altered state. And though the new guy’s physique is quite visually menacing, I would bet all the money in the bank that he couldn’t beat Ex Lax in a gladiator-style hand-to-hand combat death match. No matter how much bigger the new guy is, the old ex would eat his lunch…just trust me on that. Fortunately, there was no bloodshed that night.  After the new guy commenced riding on the hood of Pam’s car (back to his car), we all eventually made it safely back to Pam’s. The new guy followed us in his car, while Pam sent Ex Lax packing. She was wise enough to realize the trouble that might transpire if she had them both under one roof, her roof. The new guy helped babysit sis & I while Pam finished some work for the next morning. It wasn’t until the next morning that I knew where everyone else had crash landed the night before but I knew the new guy and I crashed on Pam’s comfy sofa. Surprisingly, the new guy’s bulging biceps made quite a comfortable pillow in a pinch. I have to say here that he was a perfect gentleman and didn’t try anything untoward with me. But if he had, I probably wouldn’t have resisted much given my current intimate inactivity. It’s funny, this responsible ‘Don’t Drink and Drive’ stance is coming from the same sisters that drove a car without brakes for weeks while in college. Back then, we discovered that the brakes were going out on our car while heading out to our favorite nightspot. What did we do instead of go back home and have the car towed to a trusted mechanic? We drove it to the club anyway, using the emergency brake (at stop lights) and concrete parking stoppers (when we had to park). If that wasn’t bad enough, sis drove it that way to work everyday, using that exact method. You can learn a lot about yourself while dangerously sharing the road with thousands of other drivers with perfectly good brakes. I can say that it was then that I learned and perfected the fine art of anticipation. This delicate driving method requires many creative thinking skills, not everybody can master it. You have to give the car just enough gas, stay back just enough and use human reasoning to predict what that other driver will most likely do. You have to plan every mile down to mere millimeters. It’s hard but it can be done. Laugh if you want but you can’t get that kind of education in books, you have to live it. Toward the end, it would take sis & I both, and all our physical power, to lift up the emergency brake when they showed signs of failing too. Finally though, we had to relent and take it to a shop when sis drove into the garden of the church we were living next to at the time. Yeah, the emergency brake gave out completely and she crashed right into their beautiful holy garden. It’s so funny how God rescues us from some of our dumb decisions, hopefully, giving us an opportunity to do it better next time. I have the skills but I’ll never drive without brakes again (on purpose). Next weekend and every weekend thereafter, I won’t get lit (on purpose) without a few fool-proof back-up plans. The other night while I was posting pics of Saturday and Sunday night online, sis and I reminisced about how different things get as you get older. It’s odd how you grow mentally and emotionally from doing nothing more than being on Earth a little longer and learning from past experiences. While it’s not very mature to get lit with no designated driver or back-up plan, I knew that I would be surrounded by people that I trusted implicitly. I knew that I would never knowingly put anybody, let alone somebody I loved, in danger. I even knew that somehow, things would work out. Even more than all that, I also knew that I’ve never done anything irreversible or irrevocably irresponsible while under the influence of alcohol, drugs, depression, grief, cluelessness or anything else. I don’t want test my blessings but I live a very charmed life. As bad as some of my decisions end up being, my heart is mostly honorable and that seems to carry me through the rough patches.  Personally, I think that the principles of Newton’s Third Law of Motion apply to almost everything in The Universe. Newton’s Third Law; For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. That could be applied to almost everything if you really think about it. In a weird and wonderful way, we’re all connected. We are born. We live and make mistakes. We live and learn. We live and teach. We die, hopefully knowing much more than we did when we were born. It’s the circle of life and love that connects us. It’s the circle of life and love that sustains us, even in our darkest hour. You get back what you give, it’s my belief that The Universe is insistent on it.  And even if everything I thought I had all figured out, turns out to be just smoke and mirrors, so what? My next chapter hasn’t been written yet and when it is, it’ll be a best seller. My gray hairs may seem unsightly to some but to me, they’re a beautiful reminder of just how far I’ve come and how far I’ve yet to go. Let the chips fall where they may and the haters stay outta my way! 





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