(no subject)
Today was a little strange for me. I'd been having weird fits of anxiety. Fortunately, this is completely unlike my normal mood, so I was able to be conscious of it while it was happening. I'm not usually an anxious person, though, so I felt more than a bit unnerved. As the day went-on, it only got worse. When I finally got home from work, I had to sit in the dark for about an hour to re-center myself before I tried to contact anybody about tonight's activities.
Phil and I went to Denny's to hang for a bit, then I went to Cocoa. I have this friend. His name is Ryan. Ryan is leaving for the military on Wednesday. Cody, Sean, a few random acquaintances and I were supposed to celebrate for him tonight at The Dog and Bone, a bar in Cocoa Village. As soon as I got out of my car, the anxiety returned in full-force. Some staggering drunk bumped-into me, and I had to grind my teeth to keep myself from shaking. I have no idea what's wrong with me. Apparently, tonight holds the bar's current attendance record, and I had to awkwardly push past hundreds of drunks to reach my friends in the very back corner of the top floor. Drunk women, spotted and creased from hundreds of previous nights like this one would touch my chest or arm and smile as I politely pushed them aside. Dozens of hands touching me, and I did NOT want to be touched. I spotted my friends in the back and finally made my way to Cody and the rest.
At last, a seat. Thank the Gods of Geometry for inventing corners. I tried to catch-up with the guys, since I'd arrived late, about certain peculiars and interests, but through the screaming of the other bargoers and the blaring of Tag Team's "Whoop! There it is!" it was pretty-much a lost cause, so we just shrugged at each other. Cody laughed and yelled "Which is worse, this or I-Bar?," and I replied "This is actually a little worse. The people are better dancers, but at least at I-Bar, the music's better, and there usually isn't anybody over 40 hitting on me." Cody was a little drunk at that point, so he took the safe-route and nodded introspectively.
I don't drink. I've got no use for it. I don't, however, enjoy shoving it into people's faces. I usually don't have a problem fitting-in, even sober; but when some obnoxious fat chick starts hanging too close to me, because she wants me to hear her screaming story of how incredibly drunk she is, I have to draw the line. I stood-up while she was in mid-sentence and just walked-out, rubbing my eyes for wont of a smokeless environment. I was there a total of 20 minutes. I don't even know why I keep going back to bars. I guess I keep forgetting how much it bothers me to sit in a room full of people and pity every single one of them.
I'm probably just an elitist asshole with an ego the size of Tijuana, but man, no more. Parties, maybe. no more bars.
Phil and I went to Denny's to hang for a bit, then I went to Cocoa. I have this friend. His name is Ryan. Ryan is leaving for the military on Wednesday. Cody, Sean, a few random acquaintances and I were supposed to celebrate for him tonight at The Dog and Bone, a bar in Cocoa Village. As soon as I got out of my car, the anxiety returned in full-force. Some staggering drunk bumped-into me, and I had to grind my teeth to keep myself from shaking. I have no idea what's wrong with me. Apparently, tonight holds the bar's current attendance record, and I had to awkwardly push past hundreds of drunks to reach my friends in the very back corner of the top floor. Drunk women, spotted and creased from hundreds of previous nights like this one would touch my chest or arm and smile as I politely pushed them aside. Dozens of hands touching me, and I did NOT want to be touched. I spotted my friends in the back and finally made my way to Cody and the rest.
At last, a seat. Thank the Gods of Geometry for inventing corners. I tried to catch-up with the guys, since I'd arrived late, about certain peculiars and interests, but through the screaming of the other bargoers and the blaring of Tag Team's "Whoop! There it is!" it was pretty-much a lost cause, so we just shrugged at each other. Cody laughed and yelled "Which is worse, this or I-Bar?," and I replied "This is actually a little worse. The people are better dancers, but at least at I-Bar, the music's better, and there usually isn't anybody over 40 hitting on me." Cody was a little drunk at that point, so he took the safe-route and nodded introspectively.
I don't drink. I've got no use for it. I don't, however, enjoy shoving it into people's faces. I usually don't have a problem fitting-in, even sober; but when some obnoxious fat chick starts hanging too close to me, because she wants me to hear her screaming story of how incredibly drunk she is, I have to draw the line. I stood-up while she was in mid-sentence and just walked-out, rubbing my eyes for wont of a smokeless environment. I was there a total of 20 minutes. I don't even know why I keep going back to bars. I guess I keep forgetting how much it bothers me to sit in a room full of people and pity every single one of them.
I'm probably just an elitist asshole with an ego the size of Tijuana, but man, no more. Parties, maybe. no more bars.