Feels like home
Last night was both awesome and annoying at the same time. The party got off to a pretty slow start and we spent a good amount of time just standing around, awkwardly trying to find conversation topics. I met a man named Grover who actually answers to it. I held a baby (and wanted to steal her away). I was introduced to a ton of new people, only four of whom I can still remember their names. I learned that small children are being warned to stay away from me because I might steal the away. (For the record, it's only babies, tyvm.) I almost caught my jeans on fire. Fun times were had by all.
You know that you've drifted too far away from your roots when you look up at the sky and become mesmerized by stars. I glanced upwards last night and the sight took my breath away. All I could do was just lay there and try to take it all in (which you can't). When I was younger it was an everyday occurrence - you look up at night, you see stars, no big deal. That's all well and fine when you live in the middle of nowhere and the biggest town in your area has 18,000 people. These days it's not that easy and it will only get worse when we move down to Dallas. I feel a bit resentful of the fact that I'll probably have to drive an hour out of the city in order to be able to commune with the cosmos. I also laugh at the prospect of taking a girl that was raised on a farm and plopping her down in the middle of one of the biggest metropolitan areas in the country. Daunting? Naw.
Here are my questions that I'm left with now that the party's over: Why is it that people think I'm qualified to tend a bonfire? (Because it happened last night. We elected not to go on the freezing cold hayride and stay by the nice, warm, cozy said bonfire and that somehow put us in charge of keeping it ablaze. We did okay. I think.) Also, why do people get so fucking drunk that all they can do is scream out people's names and try not to fall over? Also, also, how is it that I have turned into my mother despite all my very diligent efforts not to? (That has no answer, btw.)
Overall, it was a good night. Now I have to get the smell of woodsmoke out of my jacket.
You know that you've drifted too far away from your roots when you look up at the sky and become mesmerized by stars. I glanced upwards last night and the sight took my breath away. All I could do was just lay there and try to take it all in (which you can't). When I was younger it was an everyday occurrence - you look up at night, you see stars, no big deal. That's all well and fine when you live in the middle of nowhere and the biggest town in your area has 18,000 people. These days it's not that easy and it will only get worse when we move down to Dallas. I feel a bit resentful of the fact that I'll probably have to drive an hour out of the city in order to be able to commune with the cosmos. I also laugh at the prospect of taking a girl that was raised on a farm and plopping her down in the middle of one of the biggest metropolitan areas in the country. Daunting? Naw.
Here are my questions that I'm left with now that the party's over: Why is it that people think I'm qualified to tend a bonfire? (Because it happened last night. We elected not to go on the freezing cold hayride and stay by the nice, warm, cozy said bonfire and that somehow put us in charge of keeping it ablaze. We did okay. I think.) Also, why do people get so fucking drunk that all they can do is scream out people's names and try not to fall over? Also, also, how is it that I have turned into my mother despite all my very diligent efforts not to? (That has no answer, btw.)
Overall, it was a good night. Now I have to get the smell of woodsmoke out of my jacket.