Independent to a Fault

My work day could have made my night go either way. A mentally and physically exhausting day. By the end of it, I was ready to fight someone. Sharp tongue waiting for it's chance. Part of me wanted to head home and fall asleep at 8:30pm. The other half of me wanted to go out on the town. The later half of me tends to fail. As much as I want to go out with friends.. my independent nature often forgets to go there. I just like hanging out with myself so damn much.

Independent to a fault.

I have a month of single ticket shows to go to. I know I love the band and I know I have to see them live. I don't care what the fuck the rest of the world is doing, I need to be at this concert. I buy a ticket. I never even think to invite someone along. I may mention it to a friend but I never pursue it to avoid the lonely stance at First Ave. So... day of show. I go alone. I shake my ass. I talk to the assholes next to me. I hold beers bigger than my face. After seeing Atmosphere this week, I realized the only part I dislike about going a show alone - the post-concert high becomes an utter buzz kill. I'm all high on adrenline and maybe the second-hand weed. Ready to bounce off the walls from the awesomeness I just witness. And all I get to do is sit in a parking lot alone for 20 minutes before someone lets me back into the pay station line. This is usually when I call home at midnight, waking up my mom to tell her what a great time I had. Ha. My poor mom.

What am I talking about? Right... tonight could have gone either way. When I got home I needed to wash my skin of it's negativity. I showered and dressed myself in a manner too cute for staying in. Skinny jeans aren't for lounging. Couch sitting will undoubtedly lead to numbness in the lower extremities. I needed to go out or go to bed. But I never called anyone. So I made an amazing meal, put on some booty music and opened a bottle of wine. My night in became a night out. Dancing around my apartment. Getting a little tipsy. Every once and a while I would pass a mirror, catch my ass in the reflection and think I should hit on myself.

I'm pretty sure I just listened to Montell Jordan three times. I have a fully choreographed dance and a fantasy about my karaoke appearence.

I had a bottle of wine... I shouldn't be blogging.