tales of inebriation

sometimes, a blog just falls into one's tequila-soaked proverbial lap.

conversation overheard Saturday night, at the Obz Street Festival (40 bands, 5 stages, and lots and lots of alcohol and other mind-altering substances).

random: excuse me…can I just tell you something?

negrita: um..well…[seeks escape route, only to realize she is quite literally unable to move, on account of the crowd]

random: you remind me so much of my aunt.

negrita: ok. okay, then. well, bye!

random: no! no! listen, she's really cool. she's all African and stuff, like you. and she's really tight (slang for "hot").

negrita: you think your aunt is—

random: NO! yes! yeah, she's totally tight. I mean, if she wasn't my aunt, I would totally—

negrita: OK! BYE NOW! BYE! [squeezes through crowd towards unknown destination (i.e. the frozen margarita stand)]

I blame the cheap frozen margaritas for slowing down my reaction to the extent that the conversation didn't end after the first 30 seconds. that being said, I would like to announce that, despite our bitter break up back in 2001, tequila and I are speaking again. I mean, we're not going to hang out regularly or anything—that would be a bit much. but we had a great time together on Saturday night. I know it's no good for me, and has the ability to reduce me to a sniveling shell of my former self, but when I saw it that night, I felt drawn to it. perhaps because of the general reverie of the evening, perhaps because it was really, really cheap and I'm a broke-ass. whatever the reason, we hooked up for a brief one night stand. and it was goooood. and I had no regrets the following morning! but there can be no repeat performances: I'm not as young as I used to be, after all.

tales of inebriation

inna heights

people talk to me about their problems all the time. I'm a very good listener, and I'm actually quite good at doling out sage advise in the manner of some wizened old woman with years of experience and insight. it's not completely altruistic, mind you. in fact, there's nothing quite like the natural high one gets from being to help someone.

I just wish I was as good at taking my own advice as I am at giving it.

I always marvel at the fact that I approach other people's crises (whether emotionally or otherwise) with such calmness and perspective, and then break into anxiety attacks when it comes to my own shit. I have yet to master the art of meditation…but I know that's what I need. and so, tomorrow, I will sit and breathe, and elevate, and try hard to relax my damn shoulders—something I learned I have become naturally incapable of doing for more than 30 seconds at a time (props to my new Pilates instructor for pointing that out) and I will try to do so without thinking of anything in particular and without making mental lists and wondering whether I remembered to email someone or freaking out about the fact that I still don't have a supervisor for my thesis, and really does anything I'm writing make sense, and what if I screw the whole thing up and PANIC! where was I? oh, yes, the breathing and relaxing: maybe if I do this, I'll be able to hear myself (or whatever other voices I'm drowning out with my anxiety) telling myself that whatever minor or major crisis arises, it's not the end of the world, and I've dealt with much worse, so there is no need to waste energy panicking.

I really don't spend enough time conversating with myself or with the Higher Power I tend to consult primarily when situations seem dire or desperation strikes. so, maybe, I'm not such a good listener after all. something to work on.


Currently listening : Essential Billie Holiday

By Billie Holiday

inna heights