...Ok...so maybe that isn't actually the ideal way to spend a hungover morning. But to be fair, I wasn't actually hungover this morning. Sure, I did feel pretty groggy and I could still taste the pretzels (last night's lavish indulgence) in my mouth, but that unnerving feeling that you are probably going to die if you move even just an inch was not present. Which, in my opinion, is the sign of a successful evening. So of course I would get up to go do the 5 mile hike I promised myself I would do today. If I don't feel like dying, I don't have an excuse. That is the way of the badass. At a sunny and sweaty 80 degrees I truly did feel like it was the perfect way to round off my exhaustion.
Let me go back to the beginning though, to explain.
Friday afternoon I was sitting in the courtyard at school eating one of my awesome salads and secretly pretending to be a dinosaur with some friends when a girl I had a couple of classes with last semester walked up out of the blue and told me she is having a party and I should come. She wrote down the address and her number and handed it off to me saying I could bring any friends if I wanted to.
Maybe if you are a social, outgoing, and all around popular person, this is a common occurrence and no big deal. But if you are me in my current living situation, this is like the hand of God descending from the heavens to offer you the Holy Grail. I think I was actually blacked out for a few moments when she uttered the words "Hey I am having a party."
To make it clear, I am not much of a hardcore partier or drinker. I did a bit of that in high school, and honestly, I'm spent, like a shriveled up raisin, or an old person. It takes a lot of effort to live that lifestyle. It is physically exhausting on your body and detracts from valuable sleeping time that I cannot afford to lose. Besides, after a couple of hangovers from the depths of hell, you don't feel the need to indulge your liver so often anymore. Often these days, I feel that if I am going to drink, it actually has to taste good. I think they call that maturity, or something like that.
I do however like to yknow, make new friends and be social and all that good stuff. Every now and then. Just for kicks and giggles. A hobby, of sorts, really. Alcohol and parties are the "in" way to do this at my age, and the easiest for me because it actually relieves me of my Chronic Bitch Face for a short while and my mouth and words start working again by some miracle. And after all, you can only make so many friendships out of bonding over your weird affinity towards demotivational posters and My Little Pony fandom* on the internet. Sometimes it's good to branch out.
However, upon arriving to California, I found myself like one of those dinosaurs going extinct because they got caught in those awful tar pits. My classes are so dead silent, you would think we were all selectively mute, or maybe just continuously doing one of those day of silence protests for gay people or whatever (it is art school after all). Sometimes it is so quiet I think I can actually hear other people's thoughts, which is uncomfortable because so many people are thinking about either dirty, perverted things or My Little Pony. Or worse: both. People haven't been outgoing, or warm, or friendly too often so far. And without a large campus or much of a student population, there are not a lot of opportunities to get involved. And you wonder why I join old people activity groups on the internet.
Sure, it doesn't help that my Chronic Bitch Face is so severe. Or that my idea of a fun afternoon is sitting on my floor watching people on the internet play video games. Or that I never talk ever, ever, ever. But still! You'd think people would be at least drawn to my dazzling beauty or amazing artwork to come up and talk to me. This, however, does not prove to be true. I guess they are just too intimidated by my awesomeness.
Suffice it to say that not a lot of partying opportunities have arisen in my time here in California. And by not a lot I mean none. So this invitation was pretty significant in my sad little anti-social eyes.
--Not to mention the fact that for the past 2 years of my life, trying to get invited to parties has been like executing war strategies. And if you have ever seen me try to play Starcraft or Advance Wars or even Go Fish, you know that I am not very good at strategy. My strategy is that when I hear of a party going on but I haven't been extended an invitation outright, I must try to awkwardly wiggle around the conversation with people I know are going until it finally gets too uncomfortable to not mention a party occurring or inviting me. If this fails, I usually just party-crash anyways. Once everyone gets enough booze in them, no one gives a crap if you were invited or not. Unfortunately there was a good chunk of time back in high school in which my dear, dear friends actually went through great pains to exclude me from their social events. Why? Because it was high school. And everyone is a snotty little bitch in high school. I still managed to show up to a fair amount of parties, but it just isn't as much fun when everyone is treating you like you smell their grandmother's closet. So yea, getting a real, genuine invitation to a youthful social eventful is very meaningful to me. Just about brings tears to my eyes thinking about it...--
This is slightly embarrassing, but since I've already shared details about my sex life and illegal activities I sometimes partake in, what the hell, I will admit I spent almost the entirety of the next day excited and giggly like freshman school girl on the day of her first prom with her super gorgeous senior boyfriend who is planning something "special" afterwards. I planned out my clothes and my hair to be the perfect combination of cute but casual. I even cut and painted my nails, a ritual I only partake in for vacations, school dances, and dates. And ever since I graduated high school and I've never been on a real date, that means I paint my nails about twice a year, max. Of course, I did set aside enough time to sit on my floor and watch another live episode of people playing video games. You gotta have priorities.
And lo and behold I spent an evening talking to new or at least somewhat unfamiliar people outside of school. People thought my taste in drink was somewhat "cool" or "hardcore" ...for some reason (straight vodka chased by diet coke, classy, I know, although I am pretty sure you can't be much girlier than that. It would have been better if I had been using my usual chase: water)**. It was glorious! It was beautiful! It was grand! It was....well, it was actually just a pretty chill night. But I can appreciate that too. I am sure I actually made something of a fool of myself, but at least I was upfront about how weird and awkward I am. (Now there won't be any more surprises! Except for if they ever see me dance. Or sing). And for the first time in a long time I went to bed at an ungodly hour and I didn't get a full nights rest.
Which is why my hike this morning gave me extra badass points. I cannot recommend enough getting up for a 5 mile hike in the middle of a hot day after a hearty night of carousing. Because even though your stomach feels like a gross, melted, pepsi-flavored slushy that has been sitting in your car all afternoon and all you want to do is lay down in the middle of the trail and take a nap, it's worth it. Because it's pretty out. There are even wildflowers blooming! And it will get you just that much closer to super fit badass status.*** Which we all know is the most important thing in life. Ever.
*For the record, I don't actually watch MLP. It's just an example. We all really know the coolest fandom is Gumby, which is totally making a comeback.
**I am pretty sure they actually just thought it was kind of gross or sketchy or just downright weird to drink that but didn't know how to word it politely.
*** Points will increase if you have a real hangover or if the weather sucks or if you take some nice, professional looking photos of the wildflowers that you might frame and give to your mother for her birthday.
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