Alcohol melts worries like plastic

I spent most of yesterday writing a series of posts on how to Transform yourself. Basically, it was about how to sit down and look at yourself critically in order to figure out who you are and where you want to go in life. Since it is spring, I have been feeling the need to clean. This includes character cleaning. What habits do I hate? What am I great at? Who do I want to be?

So this was a four-post series, with instructions on how to do charts and things like that. I even drew up my own charts that I was planning on scanning for both instructional purposes and for the sake of endless self displaying.

However, my good friend J came in from Annapolis and took me out of work and we went to happy hour. We began the evening lamenting the economy, how we feel we stuck and going nowhere. We spoke about how we feel we are wasting our time, how we are accomplishing nothing in our lives right now. Then we ordered another drink. And another. Then her boyfriend showed up and my roommate showed up and the night really began. We ordered more drinks. And some food. And more drinks. And dessert. The bill was astronomical, which is hilarious as we went to this restaurant because it was cheap. It was also hilarious because of the previous conversation that also mentioned how broke we are. And when I say hilarious, I am not being sarcastic. I am still laughing.

Well, in the course of this evening we joked, we laughed. I threw hot sauce on J’s boyfriend and gave him a rash and a stained shirt. You know, the usual. We were given a free tiramisu (It was huge) because the restaurant is full of nice waiters and there were few other people around and they find it hilarious when I go there and get smashed, which happens with my mother quite a bit. J and I made friends with a homeless man. We had a lot of trouble doing the math on our bill. We loved our waitress.

On the way home I had a bunch of word vomit to my roommate about nonsense regarding Transformation and self awareness and sticking up for yourself and all that jazz. It would have been wonderful to see a video of me stopping her in the middle of the road and shaking her shoulders and proclaiming things such as “You MUST figure out WHO you ARE in your life! You MUST be STRONG! You MUST LOVE YOURSELF”.

We got home at a time that is relatively early compared to my new standard of 12:30 am. So I went through all the clothes the roommate is throwing out, opened a few beers, and proceeded to watch Glee on the computer until 12 AM. At this point I did a lot of facebook perusing, and had an emotional breakdown. I called a bunch of my west coast friends that I never talk to because of the time difference, but they did not pick up. I had some kind of crisis of faith in relation to how I approach love in my life, and what I am doing with my magical boyfriend, and the future, and all that one worries about when tired and really quite drunk.

I was miserable! I almost cried myself to sleep. I spilled candle wax all over the floor, and my bathrobe (long story. It was an accident). I woke up, realized I was probably still a little drunk but felt great anyway.

And what I mean by great, is GREAT. Seriously I have not owned this much confidence in myself, ever. I feel right now the way that I always assumed that the models in magazines with the perfect hair and clothes, the women walking down the street in power suits with great big smiles and paychecks, the really thin girls with the effortlessly chic wardrobes, all of them, feel. I feel right now the way I always expected to feel if only I lost ten pounds, or had a few extra dollars to buy those new jeans, or made more money, or was more successful. It is as if, for once, I am truly whole.

The worries about my relationship as it relates to myself? Gone. Feeling like I should lose weight? Gone. Thinking that perhaps my wardrobe is outdated, or that I do not go on enough fantastic vacations, or that I am not productive enough in my hobbies? All gone.

The sun is out, I have a great cup of tea in front of me (and a mostly eaten bag of the ridiculously addictive salty-and-sweet popcorn I found at CVS that will be the death of me), I will go hiking this weekend. I will no longer post the long diatribe about self-discovery. My advice: go get really drunk with good friends, spend all your money, be silly and loud and concerned, worry everything out of your system. Maybe cry yourself to sleep. And when you wake up, all the alcohol will have melted away those worries like acid through plastic.

I am perfectly, one hundred-percent, absolutely content. This, my friends, is what true joy feels like!