the darker side of being
I think it is the alcohol. In fact, in this case, the moment of melancholy WAS triggered by alcoholic memories. As Wes and I were driving about, he commented about one time a girl at KFC remarked about how smart he was because he knew the exact change before she clicked the button on the register. It got me thinking about how he vomited that night, and how alcohol and vomiting go hand and hand for inexperienced/young drinkers.
The next thing I knew, I was reliving a memory from September 2004. Well, actually, the more I think about it, it might have been early October 2004. But I digress. I was remembering how one night I drank like 4 or 5 strong drinks in a 32 ounce glass. The last thing I remember about that night was running down the hall, my pants around my ankles, yelling at my roommate that I wouldn't miss the drum circle that night.
The next morning, when I woke up, I saw, next to my bed, a pile of bright orange vomit with lots of chunks. And just as I was thinking about how gross that was, and all the times I puked in general while in high school or at college due to drinking....
I started thinking about how around that time I was thinking of dabbling with vegetarianism. I remember that lonely afternoon, when I was still logging what I ate and how much I ate, alone in the dining hall. I was eating a veggie burger and fries and a Pepsi. I always hated that the dining halls served Pepsi.
And from there, I transgressed into other memories. Memories of Jesika. Memories of that anarchist girl from a few months ago. Memories of the lucky ladies.
My point is, none of these memories are particularly malignant or benign. However, my reflections on them tonight made me realise what a sad and unfulfilled person I always have been and (mostly likely) always will be.
The next thing I knew, I was reliving a memory from September 2004. Well, actually, the more I think about it, it might have been early October 2004. But I digress. I was remembering how one night I drank like 4 or 5 strong drinks in a 32 ounce glass. The last thing I remember about that night was running down the hall, my pants around my ankles, yelling at my roommate that I wouldn't miss the drum circle that night.
The next morning, when I woke up, I saw, next to my bed, a pile of bright orange vomit with lots of chunks. And just as I was thinking about how gross that was, and all the times I puked in general while in high school or at college due to drinking....
I started thinking about how around that time I was thinking of dabbling with vegetarianism. I remember that lonely afternoon, when I was still logging what I ate and how much I ate, alone in the dining hall. I was eating a veggie burger and fries and a Pepsi. I always hated that the dining halls served Pepsi.
And from there, I transgressed into other memories. Memories of Jesika. Memories of that anarchist girl from a few months ago. Memories of the lucky ladies.
My point is, none of these memories are particularly malignant or benign. However, my reflections on them tonight made me realise what a sad and unfulfilled person I always have been and (mostly likely) always will be.