OK, so . . . last night in another attempt to prove that beer is not only the cause of, but solution to, all of our problems, I met my girls at Bender's for Indie/New Wave Karaoke.
In my PBR-soaked state, I sang:
1. Son of a Preacher Man
2. Bohemian Rhapsody
3. Free Bird
4. I Love Rock and Roll (with screeching)
I can't really tell you if I was any good or not, but the crowd seemed responsive. But that could just be because it's always funny to watch the drunkest girl in the room belt it out like Kim Deal on a very, very off day.
Needless to say, I awoke feeling a bit wiggly today.
Speaking of Ms. Deal, right now it's all I can do to listen to Surfer Rosa with my headphones on, and to try to focus on this screen. I've learned that indie rock first thing in the morning is like the hair of the dog that bit you after a night like that.
But all in all, I needed that night. Two of the aforementioned girls are leaving me this summer for Peace Corps and grad school. And while I wouldn't trade the past seven months or the relationship I was in for the world, I needed to get back to the work I was doing before to build a base of friends in the city. That's what I came here for- to spend my 20s going out on Tuesday nights, drinking cheap beer and living that much-ballyhooed Rock and Roll Lifestyle. That's not to say I won't get distracted occasionally by really nice guys or need a little time alone or quiet weekends back home in Longmont. That's not to say that there won't be times where I'll be surrounded by people and still feel rather lonely. That's not to say that I won't suffer a the occasional burnout and existential crisis. But the goal right now is to make the kind of memories that will one day make my grandchildren wonder why Nanna is smiling to herself.
If I've learned nothing else in the past half year, I've learned that I'm still really young. But I've also learned that it's not gonna last forever . . .