Wasted

I wonder what it is that has people do the whole ‘hard core party scene’, filled with drinking, sometimes marijuana, and even the occasional illegal drugs.

Is there something we are seeking, and we search in the self-losing experience of extreme alcohol consumption?

Is there something that feels inadequate, but seems to be fulfilled when under the influence of increasingly strong effects of alcohol?

Are we afraid of or hating something in our lives, and we avoid the thoughts of it through alcohol’s removal of clear thinking?

Are we full of worries, and the alcohol pushes them out of our mind so well, we keep drinking more and more, until the law of diminishing return has been ignored so long that we hardly even function anymore?

Is it something else entirely?

I had a brief time of drinking in certain settings as a sort of camaraderie, or a group participation activity… sometimes even as group participation with ‘the cool kids’.

(I say ‘the cool kids’, but am definitely talking about adults… I wasn’t into law-breaking when I was under 21, and I definitely am not now.)

However, it didn’t last very long.

The worst of it, which was really only a matter of being tipsy in certain group drinking settings, not even drunk, was when I was very much hating something going on within that group setting, and I kind of wanted to avoid it while, at the same time, getting to be one of ‘the cool kids’.

(I did have a wonderful time of regular alcohol consumption at one point in life, and I believe the traditional German (and European) attitudes toward alcohol could prove quite helpful to the US… Biergarten evening drinking in summer in Germany is wonderful… but I didn’t even always drink then.

Anyway, the reason I was mentioning the Biergarten is that I do have positive memories and associations with alcohol… I just don’t much care for it.

I can have it, sure, but I wouldn’t be in the least bit concerned if I never had it again in my life.)

I’ve never understood what drives people to the degrees of drunkenness at which they are not functioning human beings, but merely stumbling babies all over again, twenty-plus years after the original state of babyhood…, but I have wondered much about what drives them to such a point in alcohol consumption.

And I’ve wondered, too, about if there is something comparable for me and my life… I haven’t come up with anything, but I haven’t looked too deeply into that specific piece of the idea.

We even call it being “wasted”…, yet do we consider that it could be a small piece of life that we have, indeed, wasted by being in such a state?

Just a thought, but it’s getting to me tonight…

Anyway… happy life, happy night

Post-a-day 2019

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Twenties to remember

As we discuss the concept of drinking alcohol, he says, “[…] What else do you do in your twenties?”

The irony of the statement misses neither of us, as we simultaneously recall that neither of us spent our own twenties drinking alcohol.

😛

I mean, it isn’t that I’m necessarily opposed to the drinking of alcohol, even for myself… I just kind of don’t do it… especially if I am going to be driving, because that, to me, requires a 0.0%.

My friends never mind it, of course, because this has made me a natural and willing designated driver, ever since my first year of college. 😛

Post-a-day 2018

College Crush

After meeting up with a friend from college tonight, I have college people on my mind.  This friend mentioned, “I think you just knew more people than I did,” (I might have edited that for improved grammar, but I really don’t remember.) an idea that seems almost crazy, seeing as how he spent the full time on campus, but I only spent about half of my shortened college career on campus.  And I was placed in the introvert section of my freshman dorm… I think I was the only one who knew everyone in my hall that year.

One person in particular has come to mind as I mingle in this thought of meeting so many people: my reasonable crush.  Certainly, I had more than one little crush in college, but there was one who didn’t seem to have anything like a big red flag, when it came to the idea of practicality of the crush.  It wasn’t like I ever intended to do anything about the crush, but he was the only one who might actually have agreed to go on a date with me, had I somehow found myself asking him.

I don’t recall the absolute first time we met, but the first time we really had a one-on-one was at a regular college party.  I had gone over with some girls from my hall – we’d all ridden in one girl’s car together.  No one expected me to stay long at the party, but I usually went to the party for a little bit, chatted, danced, hung out, went home, and then went back to the party to pick up the girls whenever they were finished for the night.  On this particular night, nothing was different.  I was alcohol-free and dancing near a corner, I believe (more out of avoiding having alcohol spilled on me and drunk guys trying to rub up on me, than out of an attempt to isolate myself).  And, somehow, I found myself talking with this guy.  

He was cute in his drunken efforts to flirt and be sweet, though the fact that the efforts were drunken gave him no real chance of anything other than talking a bit with me.  Afterward, at least one of the girls commented on how he wouldn’t leave me alone at the party, we talked for so long.  I enjoyed the attention, but the drunken lining was not to my taste, so I considered little on the matter.  I was just talking to a guy half out of his wits, and he was nice.  And that was it.  I don’t remember when my crush began with him, if it was before or a while after this experience, but I never accept drunken thoughts as forms of true, desired communication, so his “interest” was easily disregarded.  And a guy drinking at a college party usually wants sex, not a girlfriend and potential wife.

But, later on, after the crush was fully settled within me, I delighted in watching him swim fabulously on the swim team, one of the cool sports at our school where everyone seemed to be just really neat people of various backgrounds.

Anyway, by the time I was visiting one of my best friends, years later, in her last semester of college (I finished college early, remember.), my crush was in full swing.  My friend informed me that my crush lived in the house just over from hers.  I had already envied her living in that particular old-style house near campus, and I only envied it more at this piece of information.

‘He showed up at the back door, and asked for butter once.’  (Or was it that she asked him for butter, and he asked her for eggs once?  I’ll have to ask her.  She might still remember.)

We both knew I was filled with teenage girl crush envy at this.  I could have possibly befriended him, if I had taken longer for college, and lived in my rightfully earned place at that awesome house.  But I didn’t, and so it goes.

Anyway, he’s hopefully more gorgeous than ever, working a great job, and making great money that allows him to clad himself in stunning attire.  I haven’t kept up, but he’s still gorgeous in my head, and I think I’m actually nervous to look him up and find out that his health and looks didn’t improve with age since college.

Post-a-day 2017