So I'm sitting in Mo's house, very drunk, after the second day of Scotti Gras. I've been forced (at gunpoint) to make a blog post before going to bed, so come Hell or high water I'm going to write whatever I think about as I sit here.
As a side note, BrainPan is not here, but the other 2 of my blogging cohorts are present and drinking with me. Therefore, he is to be mocked incessantly until the next time we hang out and consume "Too Much" alcohol.
Scotti Gras is the weeklong celebration of my birthday, conceived as a way for me to draw attention to myself for more than one day of the year. This is the second year of Scotti Gras, the last one having been a rousing success involving the consumption of a similar amount of liquor and the purchase of an Xbox 360. While there has not (yet) been an impulse purchase on my part, I've made up for it by drinking twice as much.
Which leads me to sort of the point of this rambling post. We spend a lot of time reminiscing about college and "the good old days," since may of us have moved on to graduate school or real grownup jobs. The days of living in a dorm room with nothing but homework and a work-study job to worry about are long gone. Now we have responsibilities that permeate through our holidays and weekends, and as a result we can never really relax. We can't be caught doing things of questionable legality, for fear of our superiors finding out. And, perhaps most importantly (and the point that will get me in the most amount of trouble, no doubt) is the fact that many of us have significant others who will look down upon our shenanigans.
Now, I typically have a dim view of younger people, especially people who act as crazy and irresponsible and immature as I did when I first entered college. However a lot of that view is motivated by jealousy: I know that I will never again be in the type of situations I was in back then, where you were in a stranger's house drinking their beer and seeing two girls make out for attention. I'm forced to remember, rather than look forward to, the crazy scenarios and poor decision-making that made those years so much fun. As more and more of my friends turn out the lights before midnight, I need to come to terms with the fact that the days of partying until the sun comes up are long gone. It's hard to let go of those times. It's hard to accept when a part of your life ends, especially when the next part of your life seems so bland by comparison.
I don't want the people who read this to get the idea that I'm disappointed with my life or the people who are in it, I just wish there were nights that involve places and activities that are unplanned. I wish there were still opportunities to make new stories instead of retell old ones. Fred once relayed a quote to me along the lines of "The weakest form of conversation starts with the phrase 'Remember when...'" meaning that you should spend your time experiencing life rather than remembering it. I dunno, maybe I'm romanticizing the life I led four years ago, maybe I'm misremembering the things that happened and how much fun it was. Maybe in four more years I'll look back and realize that this, right now, was the best of times and the stuff that happened before was just silly nonsense.
Still, that doesn't help the fact that sometimes I'd like a bit of the silly nonsense.
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4 comments:
While I love you, man, I'm going to try to redact this (at least a little bit).
Call me crazy, but I think the fact that I was prematurely passed-out, drooling on the couch while this blog post was written -- 11:55 pm, wow, REALLY? -- partially inspired its maudlin tone. While I am getting old, to be fair, I'd had at least a dozen drinks for two consecutive nights, and Morgan had just arrived from Ireland the previous morning. Also, did you forget about the multiple tequila shots we took on 7/3? I wouldn't even call them "shots," they were like "1/3 of a Solo cup." That was pretty awesome.
I should also be an objective journalist and cite the "The weakest form of conversation is 'remember when'..." quote to Tony Soprano. I'll fulfill my whimsicality requirement by closing with, eat balls.
I regret NOTHING. I had already been up for 44 hours, drinking intermittently and going through a hellacious 8 hour flight...I'll save that for my next post though
I think I should probably correct the theme of the post, after reading the comments: I'm not saying my friends are lame (they're awesome) and I'm not saying that epicness doesn't still happen (it does, as evidenced by the kickass weekend). I was just lamenting the fact that the times it'll be acceptable to be trashed and make questionable decisions are going from "Very Frequent, In Fact Pretty Much All The Time" to "Very Occasionally, Like Mostly On Weekends Or Weekday Holidays, And Even Still If It's A Weekday You Should Feel A Little Guilty." It has nothing to do with y'all, more to do with just the reality of being out of college and not having a free pass to debauch without excuse or regret (is "debauch" a verb?).
Sorry for the misunderstanding. In my defense: DRUNK.
Seeing as how Fred mentioned nothing of waking up with crazy Sharpie all over his face...you all fail. Oh, and talking about tequila shots is something women do to explain all the flashing and making up with other women for attention. And for hooking up with you.
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