I really need to get out of the house! In fact, I am in desperate need of getting out of this city that is swallowing my soul. Everything lately, has been work and school and school and work. It is a good feeling for me to be responsible and accomplish goals, but I am ready to rage. I am tired of feeling like I will choose to do the thing that will annoy me the least or whatever I can tolerate.

This weekend is Memorial Day weekend. It used to hold so much anticipation for me, but it was always anticipation of great things that never happened. We would go down to Movement and listen to a bunch of stupid music and run into a bunch of people we didn’t want to see and act happy about it anyway. We would drink until we were sober and drink until we were drunk again. We would rave dance to show all of the serious ravers that we too could pretend to look awesome. We would listen to techno for exactly one day and then be happy that we were rockers. We’d fall in love or lament over lost love or enjoy loves company and have bad drunk sex. Later, we would go to Magic Stick or Lager House, maybe Gusoline Alley (if we ended up in the area) and enjoy music we really wanted to be hearing and see people we really thought we could identify with. Ultimately, some atrocity would happen like clockwork. Just at the precipice of happiness, we would all hit the ground. We can blame it on the alcohol perhaps, but we may also blame it on the monotony of Memorial Day weekend. The sameness of people we thought we could identify with. The bad music. The sloppy sex. The call to the ex lover. The fight with a good friend over things you cannot remember. Looking back on it, “the weekend that ruined lives” still holds a special place in my heart. Somehow I still see it as a good time. Maybe it is the sickness in my mind.

This week, marks exactly a year since I have been home. Anyone who knows me in real life knows what I am saying. It is either tomorrow or the 22nd, that will make it a year. It’s crazy that I could even get the date confused. My need to break out and be a part of it all comes from time to time. Everyone sees me as this social butterfly, but the truth is I feel overwhelmed now by all of the possibilities of what could go wrong. I am fearful of disappointment. I am also fearful of the fact that it is still in me to want to enjoy chaos. I have been working so hard to change that, but for some reason it is still in me. Happy chaos. Not only have I been home for a year (tomorrow or in two days), but I also just had my third year anniversary of absolutely no alcohol. Not even Listerine or cough syrup. Three years is really putting effort into something. Many people do not respect that or look at it as a positive thing. Ideas of celebrating for me used to revolve around what I would be drinking to celebrate, as well as sad times, exciting moments, boredom, romance and everything else. It was my meal replacement for life. I still miss it sometimes. I guess I miss the emptiness of it. I expect nothing from it and I get absolutely zero- or I get negative. It might start out seeming positive, but it ends up zero or negative. I know I need and must stay away from it.

I need to break out of myself this weekend before I go crazy and act out in an unhealthy way. I need to be around people that might annoy me and be okay with that. I need to hear music that might piss me off. I need to see ridiculous people dancing… because it’s fun.